Chapter 24

[pg 251]Chapter 24A favourite panacea for the results of a stupid action is the sentiment of martyrdom. When MYalu persisted in bitter reproaches to Yabolo and Sakamata the first retorted that the punishment was the result of having committed the sacrilege of kidnapping the sacred Bride of the Banana. Then MYalu considered that not only had he been trapped by one of his own people whom he had deserted, but to add insult to injury he felt he was not understood. Neither Yabolo nor Sakamata, as Bakahenzie, could comprehend a chief and a warrior making such a fuss over a girl. That the confiscation of MYalu’s property was an insult they both agreed, but biassed by both fear of Eyes-in-the-hands and their own interests, they were disposed to pretend that after all such a small matter as the abduction of a girl could be overlooked when committed by the follower of such a powerful god and magician, as expedience is so often the father of a dispensation. Yet nevertheless in Yabolo, if not in Sakamata, whose hatred of the tribal craft was deep in ratio to the degeneracy of his native code, the outrage upon Bakuma as the Bride of the Banana, while an act of dangerous sacrilege when performed by a Wongolo, violated the half suppressed traditions and kindled a spark of bitter resentment ready to flare up against Eyes-in-the-hands or Sakamata; but being a diplomatist, he concealed that anger, even from himself to a certain degree.[pg 252]Upon MYalu’s arrival in the guest-house to find that Bakuma had been taken, his passion had nearly led to his instant destruction, for he had desired to run amok among the grinning askaris. Afterwards, when the efforts of his friends and the hungry points of bayonets had cooled his ardour, he had wanted to rush straight to Eyes-in-the-hands who, according to Sakamata employed as master of ceremony at the daily audiences, would instantly restore Bakuma to him and visit a terrible punishment upon the evil-doer. But the august presence could not be approached so casually: petition must be made in orthodox form and the royal pleasure awaited meekly.According to the words of the Son-of-the-Earthquake, as zu Pfeiffer was officially designated by his men, who placed the actual name under the tabu in token of the acceptance of the magic purple, came a guard to take away MYalu’s first-born as hostage to the village of the sons of chiefs. Seething with red rage MYalu mutely followed Yabolo to the place appointed for their housing. Then on the following afternoon at the time of audience MYalu waited in the broiling heat for three hand’s-spans of the sun without being summoned to the green temple. And thus it was for three days.But upon the fourth, when MYalu squatted in the general hut in company with Yabolo, Sakamata, and other renegade chiefs, smouldering with bitter resentment, came the pulse of a distant drum, the furious tattoo and long pause, tattoo and long pause, which accompanies the mighty shout at the coronation of a new King-God,“The Fire is lighted!”news that had throbbed from that point within the forest[pg 253]from village to village to the slopes of the Gamballagalla and to the Wamungo country. The perceptible effect upon that circle of bronze figures was a scarcely audible grunt, yet nevertheless the message was like unto a live ember dropped in the dry grass of the cattle country.That morning one of the renegade chiefs had brought in two others to make their allegiance and received as reward for his fidelity a remittance of one-third of the tax levy upon his property, a policy adopted by zu Pfeiffer calculated to encourage the recruiting of his followers by establishing a reputation for lavish generosity to those who obeyed him, in contrast to his merciless severity to the recalcitrant ones.An hour later MYalu was summoned from the sweating throng squatted before the line of demon keepers through the giant ebon guards to audience with the Son-of-the-Earthquake. At the entrance as bidden he knelt, for he knew that he would be compelled did he refuse. A white flame was in his heart, but yet the magnificence of the son of the World Trembler and his satellites, the terrible ghosts of the distant white god, with amulets and charms upon his breast, had awed and subdued MYalu. Then came the voice of Sakamata relating that the chief MYalu, son of MBusa, made complaint to the Son-of-the-Earthquake that his slaves, the keepers of the coughing demons, had taken a girl named Bakuma, daughter of Bakala, and that he craved restitution of his property. While this was being translated by the corporal interpreter, MYalu watched the magic flame in the mouth of Eyes-in-the-hands, marvelling greatly at the smoke which emerged. Then said the interpreter:[pg 254]“The son of the Lord-of-the-World, the Earthquake, the World Trembler who eats up whom he pleases, whose eyes see all things, whose sword slays all things, whose breath is the rain, whose voice is the thunder, whose teeth are the lightning, whose frown is the earthquake, whose smile is the sun, whose ear is the moon, whose eyes are the stars, whose body is the world, saith that when the son of MBusa (MYalu) bringeth three chiefs of the same rank to sit at the Feet then shall the daughter of Bakala return unto him, but in the meantime shall her girdle remain untied. He hath spoken!”As he finished zu Pfeiffer made the signal of dismissal with his jewelled hand, but MYalu with the throb of that distant drum in his ears, cried out in protest, saying:“The words of the Son-of-the-Earthquake are like unto spears made of grass!”The interpreter boggled at the translation of the sentence. Zu Pfeiffer saw a ripple of insubordination. He rapped out an order to have the man taken away and given fifty lashes. Instantly the guards surrounded MYalu, who submitted in sudden misgiving, and led him away to receive the punishment.Zu Pfeiffer gave orders that the girl Bakuma should be found and called the next case, Kalomato the elderly chief who had had all his property sequestered until he should deliver his eldest son as hostage. He was a slight withered old man with a white tuft of beard and at the hands of the askaris, after considerable endurance, had screamed his submission. Now he hobbled into zu Pfeiffer’s presence with the aid of a stick. Pompously the interpreter recited the list of[pg 255]the titles of the august one, and then dwelt upon the wondrous benefits to be obtained at the magic jewelled hands, and demanded that the old chief“eat the dust”and obey the royal mandate.But the sharp eyes gazed steadily from their wrinkled sockets with a curious gleam in them as he mumbled that“his soul had wandered”(he had dreamed)“and had met the spirit of Tarum, who had forbidden him to obey the white god.”“The shenzie”(savage—used contemptuously)“longs for more fire for his paws, O Bwana,”translated the interpreter into Kiswahili.“What does he say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer.“He says, Bwana, that he hath dreamed that his god hath told him that he must not obey you. Indio, Bwana.”“Tell him that I slew his god, as every man knows.”“The Son-of-the-Earthquake bids thee to know that he hath eaten up thy god as he eateth up thy warriors when his wrath is aroused. Eat dust that thy beard grow yet longer; stretch thy tongue and thou shalt be eaten entirely and all that is thine!”“The Fire is lighted,”mumbled the old man.“What does he say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer sharply.“He attempts to make magic against thee, Bwana,”replied the interpreter who knew not the meaning of the phrase.“Take away the animal,”commanded zu Pfeiffer.The old man was accordingly led out to the further attentions of the soldiery. But during that afternoon zu Pfeiffer became conscious of a subtle air of defiance, a restlessness and exchanging of glances, so that the demon which Bakunjala had once seen so vividly came[pg 256]back to roost somewhere beneath the immaculate uniform.Neither he nor his sergeants nor their men could speak the Wongolo tongue fluently, so that for interpreter he was compelled to employ one of the corporals. To employ any newly subjected race or tribe as soldiers or in any responsible capacity is unwise, for ties of blood are liable to lead to treachery; to trust to the idiosyncrasies and personal values of any native interpreter is equally impolitic. Zu Pfeiffer and his party were as unaware of the meaning of the phrases exchanged as they were of the message in the throbbing of that distant drum. Between the conqueror and the subjected tribe was a wall denser than any steel; the same wall of tabu of the craft that Birnier was finding so difficult to penetrate.Every attempt to persuade any of the witch-doctors to disclose the secrets of their craft through the interpreter was doomed to failure; even had zu Pfeiffer been able to speak the dialect as well as Birnier he would never have accomplished it. Yet he tried the impossible. The answer was invariably a mask of ox-like stupidity or the retort that he, being a mighty magician, must needs know that he did but“tickle their feet”! At length, irritated by this persistence, he had Sakamata put to the torture and had for his pains a story in which the idol as the first man was the father of the tribe whom the people believed to have been eaten up literally, so that the conqueror had become the father of the people, having the idol inside him, and the chance that the tale had a faint resemblance to an account by a Frenchman of the superstitions of a West African tribe, convinced him. Implicitly he[pg 257]believed the ingenious yarn invented by a wily witch-doctor to save his hide and the perquisites of his job by placating the white man, the trap into which most white chroniclers have fallen. This conviction, which flattered his sagacity and lulled any suspicions, strengthened his arm in the delivering of punishment and reward.[pg 258]Chapter 25In the camp of Bakahenzie was the low mutter of the drums by day and night. The village had straggled farther through the forest in each direction save that of the sacred enclosure. Already were some five hundred warriors there and more were pouring in every day. Busy were Bakahenzie and wizards, great and small, in the preparing of amulets of the hearts of lions, livers of leopards and galls of birds, and the brewing of potent decoctions to be smeared with parrot feathers upon the warriors old and young against the evil eye and the spirits of the night. And dispensed by Bakahenzie and Marufa, from whom had come the original idea, was a special and rather expensive charm against the coughing monsters, which was made by, and invested with, the magic of the King-God himself, a can key. That morning had there been a special meeting of the craft and the chiefs before the sacred enclosure, where they had looked upon the sacred form of the King-God and heard the magic elephant’s ear give them instructions and a prophecy. Around and about a hundred fires, flickering mystically in the moist cavern of the forest, shuffled and chanted the warriors invoking the aid of Tarum, the spirit of their ancestors.On the threshold of his hut squatted a sullen Zalu Zako. He had discovered that he had escaped from the river bearing him to the pool of celibacy to find that the bird had been captured by another. Although[pg 259]he had known that before attaining his desire he would have had to extricate Bakuma from the net of the tabu, yet, lover-like and human, that task unconsidered had seemed as easy as stalking a buck in a wood. But the joy of his own release had been dissipated as a cloud of dust by a shower by the news of MYalu’s abduction of the girl and his desertion. Zalu Zako was so obsessed by chagrin at this wholly unexpected appearance of a rival that he was inclined to regret that he had ever thought of the move by which he could escape his late doom and rescue Bakuma at the same time. The illusion of nearness to the desired object had served naturally to whet his appetite; the balked love motive dominated him almost to the exclusion of political affairs. What his official status was now that all precedent had been broken Bakahenzie did not know and had not decided, and Zalu Zako cared less.Though his faith in most of the tribal theology was unshaken, he did not believe in the sanctity, or the necessity, of the marriage of the Bride of the Banana, because he had a defensive complex of desire for her that inhibited that belief. Towards MYalu, Zalu Zako’s natural reaction was revenge. The matter was how to accomplish that end. To reveal to Bakahenzie that he was the lover of Bakuma would be tantamount to admitting sacrilege in having a passion for the Bride of the Banana.As Zalu Zako was unable to get at the person of his rival the most logical method to his mind was by witchcraft. To obtain some relics of the body of MYalu proved easy, as his wives and slaves being forced to flee, had been unable to burn the deserted hut, thus[pg 260]leaving in the customary place in the thatch some of the hair and nail clippings. Also to find an excuse for the cursing of MYalu was still easier. So at a meeting of the chiefs he rivalled Bakahenzie in denunciation of the absconding chief, insisted that a mighty magic be made against him and produced the necessary corporeal parts upon which to work. So it was that Bakahenzie and Marufa, a quiet watchful Marufa, brewed the magic brew and condemned MYalu by the proxy of his nail clippings to die, a process that took root in a very firm conviction in the mind of Zalu Zako and the others that die MYalu would.After this satisfaction of the first fierce instinct Zalu Zako was more at liberty to consider other matters, which resulted in an effort to quicken the collective will to recover the tribe’s country and possessions, symbolised in Zalu Zako’s mind by the delicate figure of Bakuma.The ceremony of the lighting of the new fires he had attended perfunctorily. To have regret or pity for the white man, Moonspirit who had taken over his doom, never occurred to Zalu Zako, for to him as to Bakahenzie Moonspirit was a mighty magician who, if competent to effect the magic he had already displayed, was capable of looking after himself; moreover, as he had recalled the Unmentionable One, he stood as the incarnation of the tribe, the god, therefore beyond human consideration.Bakahenzie’s chief regard was, of course, to unify the tribe once more and to rouse those who had submitted to Eyes-in-the-hands to rebellion, which was but a projection of his desire, as that of all patriots, to consolidate his own position and to regain[pg 261]his lost prestige. He had had no need to command that the news be sent abroad. At the ceremony of the Lighting of the Fires the drum notes had been picked up by the nearest village and sent ricocheting across the length and breadth of the country, rippling through the Court of the Son-of-the-Earthquake.Bakahenzie’s confidence had increased tenfold since, by his clever coup, he had locked up the white magician in the godhead. He believed that Moonspirit was the mightiest magician the world had ever seen, a demi-god; for had he, Bakahenzie, not seen these wondrous miracles with his own eyes? Had not he, Bakahenzie, captured and tamed this marvellous power to his own ends?So absolute was this confidence in the powers of the white that Bakahenzie was perfectly sincere, as Mungongo and Bakuma had been, in asserting that the“son of the Lord-of-many-Lands”was pleased to pretend that“an elephant was a mouse,”that he“tickled their feet.”The only doubt raised in his mind at that interview was whether he could persuade this powerful being to destroy the usurper“out of hand,”as it were, or even whether Moonspirit could do so; for it was quite reasonable to him to suppose that even a god, in fighting another god, might have to do battle for the victory.Not in spite of, but because of, this firm faith Bakahenzie took more precautions than ever before to surround the captured god with the toughest fibres of the tabu to keep him in isolation. Obviously such a valuable prize demanded special precautions. He promulgated an ordinance, in the amplitude of his regained power, that no lay man nor any wizard[pg 262]save the inner cult, whom he dared not forbid, were to approach within sight of the sacred enclosure. In the jungle of his mind lurked the fear that the new god might be seen to leave the sacred ground and thus render the penalty of death imperative according to the laws of the tabu upon a god who jeopardised the tribal welfare as MFunya MPopo had done by his failure to bring rain. The belief that he could control a force which he admitted was infinitely greater than he, and of punishing it if it did not behave, was not at all inconsistent to the native mind, nor more illogical than many theological ideas of whites.At the last interview Bakahenzie had tried to persuade Birnier to permit him to speak into the mighty ear of the magic box; in effect an attempt to gain complete control. But Birnier, when he at length had realised that Bakahenzie’s mental development was little greater than Mungongo’s, and keenly aware of the isolation to which he was to be subjected, as well as the purpose in the witch-doctor’s mind, had resolutely refused. Bakahenzie had accepted the intimation that the god would not work miracles through any other mouth than that of his incarnation, and after a long cogitative silence had departed without further comment.But of course he came back again next day, as Birnier had known that he would. Birnier hinted at the expected initiation into the“mysteries”of the craft, particularly of the Festival of the Banana and the other ceremonies connected with his rôle as King-God. But Bakahenzie’s gaze, fixed upon an object on the toilet table, did not quiver. Birnier repeated the inquiry more bluntly. Said Bakahenzie:[pg 263]“The fingers of the son of Maliko are hungry to touch the magic knife of the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands.”“Damn it,”muttered Birnier.“That’s my favourite!”But he handed the razor to Bakahenzie, saying:“Is not the porridge pot free to all brothers?”Gravely Bakahenzie slipped the safety razor into his loin cloth, mumbled the orthodox adieu and departed.Although devoted to Birnier as much as ever, Mungongo was bound just as much by the articles of the tabu as any other native; in fact, since his appointment to the high office of Keeper of the Fires, he was if possible more terrified by the bogies of their theology than before. Put one foot out of the sacred ground he would not, for he was convinced that immediately he did so, the ghosts of the dead kings would instantly strangle him. Birnier attempted to persuade him to get into communication with Marufa, but that wily gentleman, grieving over the failure of the coup he had aided Birnier to make, and for the moment completely under the domination of Bakahenzie, who, he knew, had him watched every moment of the day and night, would never approach the Place of the Unmentionable One. Nor dared Zalu Zako break the tabu placed by Bakahenzie. To Bakahenzie and not to Birnier he owed his escape from the dreaded godhood. One who had released him might quite reasonably have him back again if annoyed. The few wizards who came to gaze at the imprisoned god like children at the Zoo, as Birnier had commented, were deaf to any remark, instruction, or plea of the Holy One. So it was that Birnier began to realise that[pg 264]the functions of a god were so very purely divine that he would never be allowed to interfere in human affairs at all except by grace of the high priest, and possibly he was not the first god who had found that out.This jungle of secrecy and the denial of any active part in the organising of the tribe began to irritate Birnier. Yet he perceived clearly enough from his knowledge of the native mind that a premature effort to force either confidence or action would end in disaster. Patience and perseverance alone would bring success; and the moulding of the material through forces which already controlled it. He must play the witch-doctor to the full. Working upon this hypothesis he determined to control Bakahenzie through“messages”from the spirit of Tarum. The trouble was to find out whether Bakahenzie would obey him or not and to what extent.So in the early hours of one morning Bakahenzie’s watchers in the forest shuddered as they heard more of the mysterious voices of the Unmentionable One making wondrous magic within the temple as Mungongo chanted, at Birnier’s prompting, the god’s instructions to his high priest and people. The form of the chant was not correct as Mungongo’s memory was very unreliable, but as Birnier remarked to the portrait of Lucille,“I don’t suppose Maestro Bakahenzie is such a stylist as he would have the public suppose.”Afterwards, to Mungongo’s delight, who was never tired of any manifestation of Moonspirit’s magic, he put out the light and lay upon his bed within the temple listening to the voice of Lucille pouring[pg 265]out the passion of“Mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix,”inSamson et Delilah, to the sleepy ears of the monkeys above the figure of the idol limned against the moon-patterned roof of the forest.But scarcely had the moist ultramarine shadows turned to mauve than the voice of Bakahenzie hailed the god most punctiliously from without. However Birnier happened to be sleepy, and the chance of the early hour presented such an opportunity to gain prestige that he sent the Keeper of the Fires to inform the High Priest that the god was not yet up and that he must needs wait. And wait did Bakahenzie, like unto a graven image at the gate until the sun was four hand’s-spans above the trees. When Birnier had breakfasted upon broiled kid, eggs, banana and weak tea, Bakahenzie was summoned to the august presence.Wondering what new idea Bakahenzie had gotten into his head Birnier solemnly talked the usual preliminaries, intending to announce in the best manner that Tarum had a message for the son of Maliko; but to his astonishment Bakahenzie forestalled him by demanding to know when the god would speak again.When Mungongo had gravely placed the machine at his feet Birnier set the record. The chant bade the son of Maliko to summon the wizards and the warriors of the tribe to the abode of the Unmentionable One; to send to those who had fallen into the power of Eyes-in-the-hands instructions that they were not to reveal by word or deed that the Unmentionable One had been pleased to return, but to wait like a wild cat at a fish pool until a signal was[pg 266]given through the drums, when they were to smite swiftly at every keeper of the demons and to flee immediately to their brethren in the forest; that they were on no account to kill or wound Eyes-in-the-hands nor any white man that was his, lest their powerful ghosts exact a terrible penalty and refuse to be propitiated; that when these things had been done would the spirit of Tarum issue further instructions.In composing this message Bernier had sought to gain the advantage of a surprise attack and to secure the massacre of as many of the askaris as possible; to save zu Pfeiffer and his white sergeants from the fate which would await them should they fall into the hands of the Wongolo; to minimise the loss of men which would occur were the tribe to attempt to face the guns; afterwards to lure zu Pfeiffer away from his fortifications and the open country, in order to compel him to fight in the forest where he could not ascertain what force was against him; and in the meantime to slip round and establish the idol in the Place of Kings, which act would consolidate the moral of the tribe as well as cut the line of zu Pfeiffer’s communications with Ingonya.As Bakahenzie listened gravely and attentively, Birnier keenly watched his face. Although the mask did not quiver, a half suppressed grunt at the end persuaded him that Bakahenzie was duly impressed, but he made no comment. After regarding Mungongo solemnly putting away the machine Bakahenzie remarked casually:“In the village is a messenger from Eyes-in-the-hands who sends thee greetings.”[pg 267]This was the first news that Birnier had received since his ascent to the godhood. He had expected that sooner or later zu Pfeiffer would hear of the presence of a white man, but he was rather startled at the inference that zu Pfeiffer knew who he was. He made no visible sign as he waited. Bakahenzie took snuff interestedly and continued:“Eyes-in-the-hands bids thee to go unto the Place of Kings to eat the dust before him.”Bakahenzie regarded him with keen eyes. Birnier considered swiftly. From the latter part of the message he gathered that zu Pfeiffer was not aware of his identity. His opinion of zu Pfeiffer’s character suggested certain psychological possibilities. His policy was to lure him away from his fort; to destroy his military judgment. Therefore to cause him at this juncture to be violently disturbed by a personal emotion might tend to confuse his mind. Enmity—fear—might equally serve as the lure required. In spite of committing a breach of native etiquette Birnier could not resist smiling. He reached for the“Anatomy”and as he scribbled two words he said to Bakahenzie solemnly:“O son of Maliko, say unto this man of many tongues as well as many eyes, ‘that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed upon his leavings; that the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal.’ And shall the slave take unto him that which is mighty magic, such magic that when Eyes-in-the-hands doth but touch it shall he trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant. Bid him to mark that my words be white!”And when Bakahenzie had gone Birnier turned to[pg 268]the portrait on the wall and remarked as he indulged in the luxury of a grin:“Say, honey, but if that doesn’t make him mad, I’ll—I’ll eat my own manuscripts!”[pg 269]Chapter 26In a corner of one of the half-completed huts in a half-completed street of the new village of the Place of Kings squatted Yabolo and other chiefs. As Sakamata was up in the fort serving Eyes-in-the-hands they could talk freely, yet in low tones and with wary eyes for the interstices of the unfinished wall. More than one chief had been thrashed but none as high in rank as MYalu; moreover, those that had been severely punished had been taken in fair fight or had attempted to escape, whereas MYalu had done nothing that they considered to merit punishment. The growing detestation and hatred smouldering within all of them against the new ruler had burst into flame at the first hint of the news vibrating upon the moist air. Later had come another drum message bidding them await new words of Tarum, and forty-eight hours afterwards the messenger sent by zu Pfeiffer to summon Moonspirit, who squatted in the group, whispered word for word Birnier’s message on the phonograph, adding further instructions from Bakahenzie that the signal should be another message upon the drums:“The Fire is lighted.”Warm banana wrapped in leaves, which a slave had brought in, was placed before the chiefs while the messenger related the gossip of the village in the forest. Later, while lolling through the mid-day heat waiting for the time of audience, he produced[pg 270]from his loin cloth the magic charm which the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands, the King-God, had sent to Eyes-in-the-hands and repeated the prophecy that he should trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant, eliciting many grunts of admiration and awe. Then he inquired for Sakamata and MYalu, and upon hearing the account, reported that they were both traitors and had been condemned to die by the magic of Bakahenzie and Marufa.Each and every chief felt that he had been betrayed by Sakamata. Even Yabolo, his relative, particularly because his visionary schemes had come to nought, was against Sakamata. Sakamata had heard the message of the drums,“The Fire is lighted.”But of the details of the return of the Unmentionable One and of the new King-God he knew nothing, although every other Wongolo man, woman, and child, knew it. The terror of the tabu, of the power of the Unmentionable One, was more overwhelming than his fear of Eyes-in-the-hands, wizard and ex-member of the inner cult though he be. The Unmentionable One had returned, a miracle! In a thousand signs of birds and beasts, twigs and shadows, Sakamata saw omens of evil. He knew that he was an outcast, that his fellows were plotting; that they knew something that he did not; yet he dared not tell Eyes-in-the-hands lest he be killed on the instant, not by Eyes-in-the-hands but by the mystic power of the Unmentionable One.Farther down the line, in a small hut, lay MYalu motionless. His mind was a whirling red spot of rage and pain, obliterating the image of Bakuma, his ivory, and everything. From the base of the spine[pg 271]to his neck he was criss-crossed with bloody weals administered with a kiboko (whip of hippopotamus hide) by one of the black giants who formed the door guard at the tent of Eyes-in-the-hands. More stimulating to his anger even than the excessive pain was the indignity, that he, MYalu, son of MBusa, a chief, had been flogged like a slave before all men! Could he have gotten free he would have leaped upon zu Pfeiffer, god or no, and torn him to pieces with hands and teeth. But he could scarcely move. Never had such an act been conceived by MYalu. The native dignity and reserve was shattered. He lay upon his belly and glared with the eyes of a maddened and tortured animal.The yellow glare in the open doorway was darkened, but MYalu did not stir. The figure of Yabolo, a short throwing sword in hand, moved towards him and squatted down, muttering greetings. MYalu made no response. Yabolo repeated the message from the spirit of Tarum.“Let thy spear be made sharp, O son of MBusa, that we may make the jackal who would command the lion to eat offal!”MYalu grunted.“The son of Bayakala saith that it will be soon, so that thou mayest yet eat of thy defiler ere thou art gone to ghostland.”MYalu turned his head.“The son of MTungo and the son of Maliko,”explained the old man,“have made magic upon the parts which thou didst foolishly leave within thy hut.”Again MYalu merely grunted and turned away his head. But that dread news had quenched the white flame of anger. The spirits were wroth; even had they caused him to eat the dust before all men.[pg 272]Conviction in the efficacy of the magic for which he would have bought Marufa to make against Zalu Zako was as absolute as his faith in the death magic made against him by the two powerful witch-doctors, and intensified by the miraculous return of the Unmentionable One against whom he had committed sacrilege. He recollected the cry of the Baroto bird on the night on which he had kidnapped the Bride of the Banana. The spirit of Tarum was wroth. The mighty new King-God of the Unmentionable One was about to eat up all the enemies of the land. MYalu was convinced that he was doomed; certain that Yabolo knew that he was doomed; that every man knew that he was doomed.For ten minutes the figures, squatting and lying, remained as motionless as bronzes. Then MYalu rose to his knees and said calmly:“Give me thy sword, O son of Zingala.”Silently Yabolo handed him the sword which MYalu placed beneath him and laid down again. So quietly he died.From the sacred hill blared the harsh cry of the yellow bird, as the natives called the trumpet, announcing that the august presence was in audience. But instead of the usual crowd of immobile figures squatted almost under the shadow of the pom-pom within the gate of the fort, sat only the messenger. Sakamata, knowing that something portended and yet not exactly what, was so scared that his skinny limbs quivered as if with an ague. Although he desired to warn Eyes-in-the-hands in order to save himself, he dared not attempt to do so lest the august one visit his anger upon his person; vague ideas of redeeming[pg 273]his treachery by delivering Eyes-in-the-hands over to his countrymen were stoppered by terror of the wrath of the Unmentionable One.So it was that the pomp of the Son-of-the-Earthquake and the glory of the soul of the World-Trembler with many charms upon his breast was reserved for the humble messenger who entered escorted by Sakamata. After bowing in the prescribed manner the messenger squatted at zu Pfeiffer’s feet and addressed himself to the corporal interpreter.“The son of the Lord-of-many-lands, that is the King-God of the One-not-to-be-mentioned, sends greeting to the son of the World-Trembler, called Eyes-in-the-hands, and this message: ‘Say unto the man of many tongues as well as many eyes that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed on the leavings; the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal!’”“What does the animal say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer, impatient of the native preamble.“He says, Bwana,”said the interpreter,“that the white man is sick and cannot move, but that he will come as soon as he is well.”From the folds of his loin cloth the messenger was dutifully extracting something wrapped up in a banana leaf, which he handed to the interpreter as he finished the message:“And by his slave he sendeth that which is mighty magic; such magic that he who toucheth it shall trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant.”“He says, Bwana,”continued the interpreter glibly,“that he sends to the mighty Eater-of-Men a small present,”and with the words the corporal[pg 274]guilelessly proffered the small package. Zu Pfeiffer took it and tore off the covering.…Then was the magic of the new King-god of the Unmentionable One made manifest to all men, and particularly a group of chiefs hiding in a small thicket beneath the hill, for indeed did the Son-of-the-Earthquake trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant at the sight of an ivory disc on which was written:“Amantes—Amentes!”[pg 275]Chapter 27All day at Fort Eitel had been stir and bustle, the blare of trumpets and the barking of sergeants, white and black. Long lines of women and slaves streamed in from the surrounding countryside bearing loads of corn and bananas. In the half-made parade ground at the foot of the hill of Kawa Kendi, half a company of Wongolo whom zu Pfeiffer had conscripted from the chiefs, stumbled and ran in awkward squads. In the hut of the Wongolo chiefs squatted Yabolo among the rest, silently observing the preparations for the punitive expedition which Sakamata had informed them was being prepared in response to the insolent challenge of the white man who had allied himself with the“rebels.”But over them, as well as every Wongolo in and about the place, was a sullen air not of defiance but of expectant listening.In the mess hut a nervous Bakunjala prepared the table for dinner, the whites of his eyes rolling at every sound of zu Pfeiffer’s voice from the marquee adjoining. Never in his experience, nor in that of other servants or soldiers, had the demon so utterly possessed the dread Eater-of-Men as since the receipt of some terrible magic sent to him by the white man. Opinion was divided as to whether this white man was the one who had been arrested and sent to the coast with[pg 276]Corporal Inyira or whether he was a brother; some said that the magic leaf which the messenger had brought was the soul of the white man, others maintained that it was the incarnation of Bakra, which explained why the Eater-of-Men was so entirely possessed. Had he not screamed? they demanded, which clearly proved, as everybody knew, the dreadful agony as the ghost entered into the body.Even the white sergeants were frightened of their chief. They had been seen talking together secretly, doubtless discussing what medicine they could give him to exorcise the demon. Had he not been commanded by this demon to leave the safety of the fort where they had the guns on the hills, and to go into the forest where, as anybody knew, their eyes would be taken from them so that they could not see to kill the dogs of Wongolo? They were all conscious, native-like, that something was brewing among the Wongolo, but what it was exactly they did not know. Two men had had fifty lashes that morning because they had not saluted the totem—flag—correctly; and a Wongolo chief had been shot because he had not brought in the amount of ivory commanded. None dared to warn the Eater-of-Men. Some one had said that the“leaf”was the soul of the idol come to lead the Eater-of-Men to destruction. This idea took deep root among the Wunyamwezi soldiers, for although they had delighted in the slaughter and rapine under the leadership of the Eater-of-Men, yet always had there been an uneasy feeling of sacrilege in destroying an idol.In the half of the marquee reserved for the Kommandant’s[pg 277]private quarters sat zu Pfeiffer in his camp chair with the inevitable stinger at his elbow. Erect by the door stood Sergeant Schultz taking details for the disposition of stores and troops during the absence of the punitive expedition. Never had he in four years’ service seen the lieutenant as he was now. Although Schultz could speak Kiswahili fluently he knew no word of Munyamwezi, else he might have been disposed to agree with Bakunjala and his friends. As it was he thought that the Herr Lieutenant had gotten a touch of the sun or was drinking too heavily or perhaps a bit of both; for to his mind the act of dividing up their scanty forces and leaving their fortified positions to enter the forest, with no chance of keeping open the line of communication, appeared to be military suicide.He deemed it his duty to bring this point of view to his Kommandant’s notice, but he was uncomfortably aware of zu Pfeiffer’s headstrong character.“What time does the moon set, sergeant?”demanded zu Pfeiffer.“About three, Excellence.”“Good. Then at five precisely the column will move. Warn Sergeant Schneider.”“Ya, Excellence.”“You will transfer the remainder of your men and the Nordenfeldt as soon as we have gone.”“Ya, Excellence.”“That is all, sergeant.”Zu Pfeiffer dropped his head wearily on to his[pg 278]hand. Schultz remained rigidly by the door. Zu Pfeiffer glanced up peevishly.“I said that was all, sergeant,”he exclaimed tetchily.“Ya, Excellence.”“Herr Gott, what are you standing there for like a stuffed pig?”Schultz saluted.“Excellence, it is my duty to remind your Excellence that according to regulation 47 of …”“To hell with you and your regulations, damn you.… Will you leave me alone!”The last was almost a plea.“Excellence!”Schultz saluted briskly and went. Again zu Pfeiffer’s head dropped on to the cupped hand and he gazed at the portrait in the ivory frame.… Against the blue twilight of the door appeared a tall figure in white.“What in the name of——”began zu Pfeiffer.“Chakula tayari, Bwana,”announced Bakunjala timidly.“I don’t want any chakula,”said zu Pfeiffer.“Wait. Bring some here.”“Bwana!”Bakunjala fled, to reappear almost instantly with a covered plate, which he placed on the table as bidden and vanished. Zu Pfeiffer regarded distastefully his favourite dish of curried eggs. Then he bawled irritably:“Lights, animal!”[pg 279]“Bwana!”gasped Bakunjala appearing in the doorway with the lamp.But zu Pfeiffer pushed the plate away to stare at the photograph of Lucille. The stare turned to a glare, and then as if mutinying against his god, as Kawa Kendi had done when summoning rain, he suddenly snatched at the frame and flung it upon the floor with an oath, grabbed up a fountain pen and began to write.Indeed zu Pfeiffer was half insane with anger which he was disposed to vent upon Lucille by proxy as the source of yet another trouble and possibly official disgrace. He had not had a notion that Birnier could have survived the gentle hands of the corporal until without warning came that ivory disc with“Amantes—Amentes!”scribbled upon it, which not only inferred that Birnier had escaped, but that he was near to him and intended to champion these native dogs against the Imperial Government in the person of himself.The message had been made the more insulting by the note of exclamation at the end implying derisive laughter. It had, as Birnier had calculated that it would, struck zu Pfeiffer upon the most tender spot in his mental anatomy, evoking a homicidal mania which dominated his consciousness. To be cheated, to be swindled, to be sworn at, cursed, even to be beaten was sufferable to a degree, but to be laughed at—zu Pfeiffer’s haughty soul exploded like a bomb at an impact. For a time he had been absolutely incoherent with rage. His one impulse had been to rush out and tear Birnier limb from limb. Well might the listening natives believe in the mighty[pg 280]magic of the new King-God, that it should make the Son-of-the-Earthquake to trumpet like a wounded cow elephant!Then out of the dissolving acrid smoke of wounded pride begin to loom arbitrary points. First, that Birnier would have complained, as he once had threatened to do, to Washington, which would infuriate the authorities in Berlin; and secondly, that he would have written to Lucille revealing the attempt he had made upon the life of her husband as well as the things he had said. How Birnier had escaped was immaterial, but the particular fate that awaited Corporal Inyira was decided but futilely; for the bold son of Banyala and his merry men were footing it to the south of lake Tanganika, scared by day lest the long arm of the Eater-of-Men should overtake them and haunted by the terror of seeing another illuminated ghost by night.As the jewelled hand glittered in the lamp-light came the mutter of a distant drum on the moist darkness; zu Pfeiffer, abnormally irritable, raised his head, scowled, and muttering that he would have to issue an order to have the drums stopped, bent again to the uncongenial task of finishing the report due for headquarters before he left. The drum ceased; began again and was answered by another drum seemingly nearer at hand.Five or ten minutes elapsed. As zu Pfeiffer took up a fresh sheet of paper a shot rang out followed instantly by yells. Zu Pfeiffer with an oath sprang to his feet, snatched at the revolver hanging above his camp bed and rushed out as a fusillade of shots mingled with wilder cries. The gruff coughs[pg 281]of the corporal in charge of the guard competed with the sharp barks of Sergeant Schultz. Zu Pfeiffer, bawling for a sergeant, ran to the great gate where the pom-pom was stationed. On the opposite hill red flashes of rifle fire darted downwards. Came another outburst of yelling. Forms of askaris scurrying to their places round the fence brushed by him on every side.“Sergeant Schultz!”shouted zu Pfeiffer.A figure in white appeared beside him in the darkness.“Excellence!”“Put the gun on them! Quick!”At the bark of the sergeant the gun crew, already at their post, deftly manipulated the machine which coughed angry red bursts of flame into the darkness. The cries and howls ceased as suddenly as they had begun.“Cease fire!”commanded zu Pfeiffer.In the resulting stillness muttered shouts and cries from somewhere in the village below were punctuated by odd shots from the other hill.“Sergeant Ludwig!”yelled zu Pfeiffer.“Excellence!”“Report!”snapped zu Pfeiffer.“An unknown body of natives attacked and killed the sentry on the eastern gate, Excellence,”came Sergeant Ludwig’s voice from the gloom.“They entered and were repulsed according to instructions. That is all, Excellence.”“Losses?”“None other, Excellence.”“What about the lower guards?”[pg 282]“I do not know, Excellence.”“Take a platoon and investigate. We will cover you with the gun.”“Excellence.”The mutter of his orders was drowned in the excited jabber of the askaris.“Didimalla!”came the dreaded voice of the Eater-of-Men. Instantly there was silence.“Report!”commanded zu Pfeiffer to Sergeant Schultz.“A body of natives attacked upon the western gate, Excellence. They were repulsed.”“Losses?”“Two men killed and three wounded.”“Ugm! Where’s the interpreter?”“Bwana!”Cloth creaked as the man saluted in the dark.“Where is Sakamata?”demanded zu Pfeiffer in Kiswahili.“Here, Excellence,”replied Sergeant Schultz.“He was running away. I had him arrested.”“Good. Bring the animal to my quarters.”“Excellence.”The sergeant and the interpreter, with a trembling Sakamata between them, followed zu Pfeiffer to the tent. As he entered he picked up the portrait in the ivory frame and replaced it carefully on the table and sat down.“Ask the shenzie why he has not informed us of this attack?”The interpreter put the question to the terrified old man who mumbled that he had not known anything about it.[pg 283]“Ugm!”grunted zu Pfeiffer.“Send for a file of men, sergeant, and—— No!”Zu Pfeiffer rose.“I’ll get the truth out of him. Stand aside, corporal!”The corporal obeyed with alacrity as jerking his revolver downwards zu Pfeiffer pulled the trigger. The shot took off two of Sakamata’s smaller toes. The corporal grinned in appreciation. Zu Pfeiffer experienced a shadow of the pleasure he would have had in mutilating Birnier.“Pull him up!”commanded zu Pfeiffer.“Now ask him again!”For a moment or two Sakamata, scarcely conscious of any pain in his fright, could not comprehend what was said; at length he mumbled and muttered. The interpreter lowered his head to listen.“Well?”“He says, Bwana, that he does not know anything; that they will not tell him, but that he has heard that the god has come back.”“The god! What god?”“The god which these shenzie (savages) had here before the Bwana came.”“The idol!”Zu Pfeiffer ripped out an oath. Then glaring questioningly at the shrunken figure on the floor considered.“Tell him he lies. How does he know that the idol has come back if they will not tell him anything?”Again the interpreter jabbered at Sakamata who mumbled back.“He says, Bwana, that his words are white. That[pg 284]they have not told him, but that he has heard the message of the drums. ‘The Fire is lighted!’”“What is that?”“I don’t know, Bwana.”“Ask him, you swine pig!”“He says that whenever there is a new king that they call out those words, meaning that he is come.”“Ugm!”Zu Pfeiffer took out a cigar and lighted it as he considered. I believe the animal is right, he reflected. That swinehund American has done this! He turned sharply to Sergeant Schultz:“Post double guards; bring me Ludwig’s report and take this thing away and have it shot.”“Excellence!”The party went out. Zu Pfeiffer sat smoking fiercely. A single shot rang out. Presently came Sergeant Ludwig in person.“I have to report, Excellence, that the investigation infers that the attack was only made with the purpose of freeing the sons of chiefs, for the picket has been slain but all the others are unhurt save three wounded.”Zu Pfeiffer swore mightily, but he dismissed the sergeant with an admonition to have his troops ready for inspection at four-thirty. He drank a brandy neat and sat on, staring at the darkness. Then suddenly he exclaimed and wheeled to the abandoned report.“This is an undeniable overt act,”he muttered, seeing what he considered an opportunity to neutralise the suppositious complaint which Birnier had sent to Washington; and taking up his pen began a formal[pg 285]accusation against Birnier, as an American subject, for having violated the international laws of the Geneva Convention by aiding and abetting rebels of his Imperial Majesty.

[pg 251]Chapter 24A favourite panacea for the results of a stupid action is the sentiment of martyrdom. When MYalu persisted in bitter reproaches to Yabolo and Sakamata the first retorted that the punishment was the result of having committed the sacrilege of kidnapping the sacred Bride of the Banana. Then MYalu considered that not only had he been trapped by one of his own people whom he had deserted, but to add insult to injury he felt he was not understood. Neither Yabolo nor Sakamata, as Bakahenzie, could comprehend a chief and a warrior making such a fuss over a girl. That the confiscation of MYalu’s property was an insult they both agreed, but biassed by both fear of Eyes-in-the-hands and their own interests, they were disposed to pretend that after all such a small matter as the abduction of a girl could be overlooked when committed by the follower of such a powerful god and magician, as expedience is so often the father of a dispensation. Yet nevertheless in Yabolo, if not in Sakamata, whose hatred of the tribal craft was deep in ratio to the degeneracy of his native code, the outrage upon Bakuma as the Bride of the Banana, while an act of dangerous sacrilege when performed by a Wongolo, violated the half suppressed traditions and kindled a spark of bitter resentment ready to flare up against Eyes-in-the-hands or Sakamata; but being a diplomatist, he concealed that anger, even from himself to a certain degree.[pg 252]Upon MYalu’s arrival in the guest-house to find that Bakuma had been taken, his passion had nearly led to his instant destruction, for he had desired to run amok among the grinning askaris. Afterwards, when the efforts of his friends and the hungry points of bayonets had cooled his ardour, he had wanted to rush straight to Eyes-in-the-hands who, according to Sakamata employed as master of ceremony at the daily audiences, would instantly restore Bakuma to him and visit a terrible punishment upon the evil-doer. But the august presence could not be approached so casually: petition must be made in orthodox form and the royal pleasure awaited meekly.According to the words of the Son-of-the-Earthquake, as zu Pfeiffer was officially designated by his men, who placed the actual name under the tabu in token of the acceptance of the magic purple, came a guard to take away MYalu’s first-born as hostage to the village of the sons of chiefs. Seething with red rage MYalu mutely followed Yabolo to the place appointed for their housing. Then on the following afternoon at the time of audience MYalu waited in the broiling heat for three hand’s-spans of the sun without being summoned to the green temple. And thus it was for three days.But upon the fourth, when MYalu squatted in the general hut in company with Yabolo, Sakamata, and other renegade chiefs, smouldering with bitter resentment, came the pulse of a distant drum, the furious tattoo and long pause, tattoo and long pause, which accompanies the mighty shout at the coronation of a new King-God,“The Fire is lighted!”news that had throbbed from that point within the forest[pg 253]from village to village to the slopes of the Gamballagalla and to the Wamungo country. The perceptible effect upon that circle of bronze figures was a scarcely audible grunt, yet nevertheless the message was like unto a live ember dropped in the dry grass of the cattle country.That morning one of the renegade chiefs had brought in two others to make their allegiance and received as reward for his fidelity a remittance of one-third of the tax levy upon his property, a policy adopted by zu Pfeiffer calculated to encourage the recruiting of his followers by establishing a reputation for lavish generosity to those who obeyed him, in contrast to his merciless severity to the recalcitrant ones.An hour later MYalu was summoned from the sweating throng squatted before the line of demon keepers through the giant ebon guards to audience with the Son-of-the-Earthquake. At the entrance as bidden he knelt, for he knew that he would be compelled did he refuse. A white flame was in his heart, but yet the magnificence of the son of the World Trembler and his satellites, the terrible ghosts of the distant white god, with amulets and charms upon his breast, had awed and subdued MYalu. Then came the voice of Sakamata relating that the chief MYalu, son of MBusa, made complaint to the Son-of-the-Earthquake that his slaves, the keepers of the coughing demons, had taken a girl named Bakuma, daughter of Bakala, and that he craved restitution of his property. While this was being translated by the corporal interpreter, MYalu watched the magic flame in the mouth of Eyes-in-the-hands, marvelling greatly at the smoke which emerged. Then said the interpreter:[pg 254]“The son of the Lord-of-the-World, the Earthquake, the World Trembler who eats up whom he pleases, whose eyes see all things, whose sword slays all things, whose breath is the rain, whose voice is the thunder, whose teeth are the lightning, whose frown is the earthquake, whose smile is the sun, whose ear is the moon, whose eyes are the stars, whose body is the world, saith that when the son of MBusa (MYalu) bringeth three chiefs of the same rank to sit at the Feet then shall the daughter of Bakala return unto him, but in the meantime shall her girdle remain untied. He hath spoken!”As he finished zu Pfeiffer made the signal of dismissal with his jewelled hand, but MYalu with the throb of that distant drum in his ears, cried out in protest, saying:“The words of the Son-of-the-Earthquake are like unto spears made of grass!”The interpreter boggled at the translation of the sentence. Zu Pfeiffer saw a ripple of insubordination. He rapped out an order to have the man taken away and given fifty lashes. Instantly the guards surrounded MYalu, who submitted in sudden misgiving, and led him away to receive the punishment.Zu Pfeiffer gave orders that the girl Bakuma should be found and called the next case, Kalomato the elderly chief who had had all his property sequestered until he should deliver his eldest son as hostage. He was a slight withered old man with a white tuft of beard and at the hands of the askaris, after considerable endurance, had screamed his submission. Now he hobbled into zu Pfeiffer’s presence with the aid of a stick. Pompously the interpreter recited the list of[pg 255]the titles of the august one, and then dwelt upon the wondrous benefits to be obtained at the magic jewelled hands, and demanded that the old chief“eat the dust”and obey the royal mandate.But the sharp eyes gazed steadily from their wrinkled sockets with a curious gleam in them as he mumbled that“his soul had wandered”(he had dreamed)“and had met the spirit of Tarum, who had forbidden him to obey the white god.”“The shenzie”(savage—used contemptuously)“longs for more fire for his paws, O Bwana,”translated the interpreter into Kiswahili.“What does he say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer.“He says, Bwana, that he hath dreamed that his god hath told him that he must not obey you. Indio, Bwana.”“Tell him that I slew his god, as every man knows.”“The Son-of-the-Earthquake bids thee to know that he hath eaten up thy god as he eateth up thy warriors when his wrath is aroused. Eat dust that thy beard grow yet longer; stretch thy tongue and thou shalt be eaten entirely and all that is thine!”“The Fire is lighted,”mumbled the old man.“What does he say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer sharply.“He attempts to make magic against thee, Bwana,”replied the interpreter who knew not the meaning of the phrase.“Take away the animal,”commanded zu Pfeiffer.The old man was accordingly led out to the further attentions of the soldiery. But during that afternoon zu Pfeiffer became conscious of a subtle air of defiance, a restlessness and exchanging of glances, so that the demon which Bakunjala had once seen so vividly came[pg 256]back to roost somewhere beneath the immaculate uniform.Neither he nor his sergeants nor their men could speak the Wongolo tongue fluently, so that for interpreter he was compelled to employ one of the corporals. To employ any newly subjected race or tribe as soldiers or in any responsible capacity is unwise, for ties of blood are liable to lead to treachery; to trust to the idiosyncrasies and personal values of any native interpreter is equally impolitic. Zu Pfeiffer and his party were as unaware of the meaning of the phrases exchanged as they were of the message in the throbbing of that distant drum. Between the conqueror and the subjected tribe was a wall denser than any steel; the same wall of tabu of the craft that Birnier was finding so difficult to penetrate.Every attempt to persuade any of the witch-doctors to disclose the secrets of their craft through the interpreter was doomed to failure; even had zu Pfeiffer been able to speak the dialect as well as Birnier he would never have accomplished it. Yet he tried the impossible. The answer was invariably a mask of ox-like stupidity or the retort that he, being a mighty magician, must needs know that he did but“tickle their feet”! At length, irritated by this persistence, he had Sakamata put to the torture and had for his pains a story in which the idol as the first man was the father of the tribe whom the people believed to have been eaten up literally, so that the conqueror had become the father of the people, having the idol inside him, and the chance that the tale had a faint resemblance to an account by a Frenchman of the superstitions of a West African tribe, convinced him. Implicitly he[pg 257]believed the ingenious yarn invented by a wily witch-doctor to save his hide and the perquisites of his job by placating the white man, the trap into which most white chroniclers have fallen. This conviction, which flattered his sagacity and lulled any suspicions, strengthened his arm in the delivering of punishment and reward.[pg 258]Chapter 25In the camp of Bakahenzie was the low mutter of the drums by day and night. The village had straggled farther through the forest in each direction save that of the sacred enclosure. Already were some five hundred warriors there and more were pouring in every day. Busy were Bakahenzie and wizards, great and small, in the preparing of amulets of the hearts of lions, livers of leopards and galls of birds, and the brewing of potent decoctions to be smeared with parrot feathers upon the warriors old and young against the evil eye and the spirits of the night. And dispensed by Bakahenzie and Marufa, from whom had come the original idea, was a special and rather expensive charm against the coughing monsters, which was made by, and invested with, the magic of the King-God himself, a can key. That morning had there been a special meeting of the craft and the chiefs before the sacred enclosure, where they had looked upon the sacred form of the King-God and heard the magic elephant’s ear give them instructions and a prophecy. Around and about a hundred fires, flickering mystically in the moist cavern of the forest, shuffled and chanted the warriors invoking the aid of Tarum, the spirit of their ancestors.On the threshold of his hut squatted a sullen Zalu Zako. He had discovered that he had escaped from the river bearing him to the pool of celibacy to find that the bird had been captured by another. Although[pg 259]he had known that before attaining his desire he would have had to extricate Bakuma from the net of the tabu, yet, lover-like and human, that task unconsidered had seemed as easy as stalking a buck in a wood. But the joy of his own release had been dissipated as a cloud of dust by a shower by the news of MYalu’s abduction of the girl and his desertion. Zalu Zako was so obsessed by chagrin at this wholly unexpected appearance of a rival that he was inclined to regret that he had ever thought of the move by which he could escape his late doom and rescue Bakuma at the same time. The illusion of nearness to the desired object had served naturally to whet his appetite; the balked love motive dominated him almost to the exclusion of political affairs. What his official status was now that all precedent had been broken Bakahenzie did not know and had not decided, and Zalu Zako cared less.Though his faith in most of the tribal theology was unshaken, he did not believe in the sanctity, or the necessity, of the marriage of the Bride of the Banana, because he had a defensive complex of desire for her that inhibited that belief. Towards MYalu, Zalu Zako’s natural reaction was revenge. The matter was how to accomplish that end. To reveal to Bakahenzie that he was the lover of Bakuma would be tantamount to admitting sacrilege in having a passion for the Bride of the Banana.As Zalu Zako was unable to get at the person of his rival the most logical method to his mind was by witchcraft. To obtain some relics of the body of MYalu proved easy, as his wives and slaves being forced to flee, had been unable to burn the deserted hut, thus[pg 260]leaving in the customary place in the thatch some of the hair and nail clippings. Also to find an excuse for the cursing of MYalu was still easier. So at a meeting of the chiefs he rivalled Bakahenzie in denunciation of the absconding chief, insisted that a mighty magic be made against him and produced the necessary corporeal parts upon which to work. So it was that Bakahenzie and Marufa, a quiet watchful Marufa, brewed the magic brew and condemned MYalu by the proxy of his nail clippings to die, a process that took root in a very firm conviction in the mind of Zalu Zako and the others that die MYalu would.After this satisfaction of the first fierce instinct Zalu Zako was more at liberty to consider other matters, which resulted in an effort to quicken the collective will to recover the tribe’s country and possessions, symbolised in Zalu Zako’s mind by the delicate figure of Bakuma.The ceremony of the lighting of the new fires he had attended perfunctorily. To have regret or pity for the white man, Moonspirit who had taken over his doom, never occurred to Zalu Zako, for to him as to Bakahenzie Moonspirit was a mighty magician who, if competent to effect the magic he had already displayed, was capable of looking after himself; moreover, as he had recalled the Unmentionable One, he stood as the incarnation of the tribe, the god, therefore beyond human consideration.Bakahenzie’s chief regard was, of course, to unify the tribe once more and to rouse those who had submitted to Eyes-in-the-hands to rebellion, which was but a projection of his desire, as that of all patriots, to consolidate his own position and to regain[pg 261]his lost prestige. He had had no need to command that the news be sent abroad. At the ceremony of the Lighting of the Fires the drum notes had been picked up by the nearest village and sent ricocheting across the length and breadth of the country, rippling through the Court of the Son-of-the-Earthquake.Bakahenzie’s confidence had increased tenfold since, by his clever coup, he had locked up the white magician in the godhead. He believed that Moonspirit was the mightiest magician the world had ever seen, a demi-god; for had he, Bakahenzie, not seen these wondrous miracles with his own eyes? Had not he, Bakahenzie, captured and tamed this marvellous power to his own ends?So absolute was this confidence in the powers of the white that Bakahenzie was perfectly sincere, as Mungongo and Bakuma had been, in asserting that the“son of the Lord-of-many-Lands”was pleased to pretend that“an elephant was a mouse,”that he“tickled their feet.”The only doubt raised in his mind at that interview was whether he could persuade this powerful being to destroy the usurper“out of hand,”as it were, or even whether Moonspirit could do so; for it was quite reasonable to him to suppose that even a god, in fighting another god, might have to do battle for the victory.Not in spite of, but because of, this firm faith Bakahenzie took more precautions than ever before to surround the captured god with the toughest fibres of the tabu to keep him in isolation. Obviously such a valuable prize demanded special precautions. He promulgated an ordinance, in the amplitude of his regained power, that no lay man nor any wizard[pg 262]save the inner cult, whom he dared not forbid, were to approach within sight of the sacred enclosure. In the jungle of his mind lurked the fear that the new god might be seen to leave the sacred ground and thus render the penalty of death imperative according to the laws of the tabu upon a god who jeopardised the tribal welfare as MFunya MPopo had done by his failure to bring rain. The belief that he could control a force which he admitted was infinitely greater than he, and of punishing it if it did not behave, was not at all inconsistent to the native mind, nor more illogical than many theological ideas of whites.At the last interview Bakahenzie had tried to persuade Birnier to permit him to speak into the mighty ear of the magic box; in effect an attempt to gain complete control. But Birnier, when he at length had realised that Bakahenzie’s mental development was little greater than Mungongo’s, and keenly aware of the isolation to which he was to be subjected, as well as the purpose in the witch-doctor’s mind, had resolutely refused. Bakahenzie had accepted the intimation that the god would not work miracles through any other mouth than that of his incarnation, and after a long cogitative silence had departed without further comment.But of course he came back again next day, as Birnier had known that he would. Birnier hinted at the expected initiation into the“mysteries”of the craft, particularly of the Festival of the Banana and the other ceremonies connected with his rôle as King-God. But Bakahenzie’s gaze, fixed upon an object on the toilet table, did not quiver. Birnier repeated the inquiry more bluntly. Said Bakahenzie:[pg 263]“The fingers of the son of Maliko are hungry to touch the magic knife of the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands.”“Damn it,”muttered Birnier.“That’s my favourite!”But he handed the razor to Bakahenzie, saying:“Is not the porridge pot free to all brothers?”Gravely Bakahenzie slipped the safety razor into his loin cloth, mumbled the orthodox adieu and departed.Although devoted to Birnier as much as ever, Mungongo was bound just as much by the articles of the tabu as any other native; in fact, since his appointment to the high office of Keeper of the Fires, he was if possible more terrified by the bogies of their theology than before. Put one foot out of the sacred ground he would not, for he was convinced that immediately he did so, the ghosts of the dead kings would instantly strangle him. Birnier attempted to persuade him to get into communication with Marufa, but that wily gentleman, grieving over the failure of the coup he had aided Birnier to make, and for the moment completely under the domination of Bakahenzie, who, he knew, had him watched every moment of the day and night, would never approach the Place of the Unmentionable One. Nor dared Zalu Zako break the tabu placed by Bakahenzie. To Bakahenzie and not to Birnier he owed his escape from the dreaded godhood. One who had released him might quite reasonably have him back again if annoyed. The few wizards who came to gaze at the imprisoned god like children at the Zoo, as Birnier had commented, were deaf to any remark, instruction, or plea of the Holy One. So it was that Birnier began to realise that[pg 264]the functions of a god were so very purely divine that he would never be allowed to interfere in human affairs at all except by grace of the high priest, and possibly he was not the first god who had found that out.This jungle of secrecy and the denial of any active part in the organising of the tribe began to irritate Birnier. Yet he perceived clearly enough from his knowledge of the native mind that a premature effort to force either confidence or action would end in disaster. Patience and perseverance alone would bring success; and the moulding of the material through forces which already controlled it. He must play the witch-doctor to the full. Working upon this hypothesis he determined to control Bakahenzie through“messages”from the spirit of Tarum. The trouble was to find out whether Bakahenzie would obey him or not and to what extent.So in the early hours of one morning Bakahenzie’s watchers in the forest shuddered as they heard more of the mysterious voices of the Unmentionable One making wondrous magic within the temple as Mungongo chanted, at Birnier’s prompting, the god’s instructions to his high priest and people. The form of the chant was not correct as Mungongo’s memory was very unreliable, but as Birnier remarked to the portrait of Lucille,“I don’t suppose Maestro Bakahenzie is such a stylist as he would have the public suppose.”Afterwards, to Mungongo’s delight, who was never tired of any manifestation of Moonspirit’s magic, he put out the light and lay upon his bed within the temple listening to the voice of Lucille pouring[pg 265]out the passion of“Mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix,”inSamson et Delilah, to the sleepy ears of the monkeys above the figure of the idol limned against the moon-patterned roof of the forest.But scarcely had the moist ultramarine shadows turned to mauve than the voice of Bakahenzie hailed the god most punctiliously from without. However Birnier happened to be sleepy, and the chance of the early hour presented such an opportunity to gain prestige that he sent the Keeper of the Fires to inform the High Priest that the god was not yet up and that he must needs wait. And wait did Bakahenzie, like unto a graven image at the gate until the sun was four hand’s-spans above the trees. When Birnier had breakfasted upon broiled kid, eggs, banana and weak tea, Bakahenzie was summoned to the august presence.Wondering what new idea Bakahenzie had gotten into his head Birnier solemnly talked the usual preliminaries, intending to announce in the best manner that Tarum had a message for the son of Maliko; but to his astonishment Bakahenzie forestalled him by demanding to know when the god would speak again.When Mungongo had gravely placed the machine at his feet Birnier set the record. The chant bade the son of Maliko to summon the wizards and the warriors of the tribe to the abode of the Unmentionable One; to send to those who had fallen into the power of Eyes-in-the-hands instructions that they were not to reveal by word or deed that the Unmentionable One had been pleased to return, but to wait like a wild cat at a fish pool until a signal was[pg 266]given through the drums, when they were to smite swiftly at every keeper of the demons and to flee immediately to their brethren in the forest; that they were on no account to kill or wound Eyes-in-the-hands nor any white man that was his, lest their powerful ghosts exact a terrible penalty and refuse to be propitiated; that when these things had been done would the spirit of Tarum issue further instructions.In composing this message Bernier had sought to gain the advantage of a surprise attack and to secure the massacre of as many of the askaris as possible; to save zu Pfeiffer and his white sergeants from the fate which would await them should they fall into the hands of the Wongolo; to minimise the loss of men which would occur were the tribe to attempt to face the guns; afterwards to lure zu Pfeiffer away from his fortifications and the open country, in order to compel him to fight in the forest where he could not ascertain what force was against him; and in the meantime to slip round and establish the idol in the Place of Kings, which act would consolidate the moral of the tribe as well as cut the line of zu Pfeiffer’s communications with Ingonya.As Bakahenzie listened gravely and attentively, Birnier keenly watched his face. Although the mask did not quiver, a half suppressed grunt at the end persuaded him that Bakahenzie was duly impressed, but he made no comment. After regarding Mungongo solemnly putting away the machine Bakahenzie remarked casually:“In the village is a messenger from Eyes-in-the-hands who sends thee greetings.”[pg 267]This was the first news that Birnier had received since his ascent to the godhood. He had expected that sooner or later zu Pfeiffer would hear of the presence of a white man, but he was rather startled at the inference that zu Pfeiffer knew who he was. He made no visible sign as he waited. Bakahenzie took snuff interestedly and continued:“Eyes-in-the-hands bids thee to go unto the Place of Kings to eat the dust before him.”Bakahenzie regarded him with keen eyes. Birnier considered swiftly. From the latter part of the message he gathered that zu Pfeiffer was not aware of his identity. His opinion of zu Pfeiffer’s character suggested certain psychological possibilities. His policy was to lure him away from his fort; to destroy his military judgment. Therefore to cause him at this juncture to be violently disturbed by a personal emotion might tend to confuse his mind. Enmity—fear—might equally serve as the lure required. In spite of committing a breach of native etiquette Birnier could not resist smiling. He reached for the“Anatomy”and as he scribbled two words he said to Bakahenzie solemnly:“O son of Maliko, say unto this man of many tongues as well as many eyes, ‘that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed upon his leavings; that the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal.’ And shall the slave take unto him that which is mighty magic, such magic that when Eyes-in-the-hands doth but touch it shall he trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant. Bid him to mark that my words be white!”And when Bakahenzie had gone Birnier turned to[pg 268]the portrait on the wall and remarked as he indulged in the luxury of a grin:“Say, honey, but if that doesn’t make him mad, I’ll—I’ll eat my own manuscripts!”[pg 269]Chapter 26In a corner of one of the half-completed huts in a half-completed street of the new village of the Place of Kings squatted Yabolo and other chiefs. As Sakamata was up in the fort serving Eyes-in-the-hands they could talk freely, yet in low tones and with wary eyes for the interstices of the unfinished wall. More than one chief had been thrashed but none as high in rank as MYalu; moreover, those that had been severely punished had been taken in fair fight or had attempted to escape, whereas MYalu had done nothing that they considered to merit punishment. The growing detestation and hatred smouldering within all of them against the new ruler had burst into flame at the first hint of the news vibrating upon the moist air. Later had come another drum message bidding them await new words of Tarum, and forty-eight hours afterwards the messenger sent by zu Pfeiffer to summon Moonspirit, who squatted in the group, whispered word for word Birnier’s message on the phonograph, adding further instructions from Bakahenzie that the signal should be another message upon the drums:“The Fire is lighted.”Warm banana wrapped in leaves, which a slave had brought in, was placed before the chiefs while the messenger related the gossip of the village in the forest. Later, while lolling through the mid-day heat waiting for the time of audience, he produced[pg 270]from his loin cloth the magic charm which the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands, the King-God, had sent to Eyes-in-the-hands and repeated the prophecy that he should trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant, eliciting many grunts of admiration and awe. Then he inquired for Sakamata and MYalu, and upon hearing the account, reported that they were both traitors and had been condemned to die by the magic of Bakahenzie and Marufa.Each and every chief felt that he had been betrayed by Sakamata. Even Yabolo, his relative, particularly because his visionary schemes had come to nought, was against Sakamata. Sakamata had heard the message of the drums,“The Fire is lighted.”But of the details of the return of the Unmentionable One and of the new King-God he knew nothing, although every other Wongolo man, woman, and child, knew it. The terror of the tabu, of the power of the Unmentionable One, was more overwhelming than his fear of Eyes-in-the-hands, wizard and ex-member of the inner cult though he be. The Unmentionable One had returned, a miracle! In a thousand signs of birds and beasts, twigs and shadows, Sakamata saw omens of evil. He knew that he was an outcast, that his fellows were plotting; that they knew something that he did not; yet he dared not tell Eyes-in-the-hands lest he be killed on the instant, not by Eyes-in-the-hands but by the mystic power of the Unmentionable One.Farther down the line, in a small hut, lay MYalu motionless. His mind was a whirling red spot of rage and pain, obliterating the image of Bakuma, his ivory, and everything. From the base of the spine[pg 271]to his neck he was criss-crossed with bloody weals administered with a kiboko (whip of hippopotamus hide) by one of the black giants who formed the door guard at the tent of Eyes-in-the-hands. More stimulating to his anger even than the excessive pain was the indignity, that he, MYalu, son of MBusa, a chief, had been flogged like a slave before all men! Could he have gotten free he would have leaped upon zu Pfeiffer, god or no, and torn him to pieces with hands and teeth. But he could scarcely move. Never had such an act been conceived by MYalu. The native dignity and reserve was shattered. He lay upon his belly and glared with the eyes of a maddened and tortured animal.The yellow glare in the open doorway was darkened, but MYalu did not stir. The figure of Yabolo, a short throwing sword in hand, moved towards him and squatted down, muttering greetings. MYalu made no response. Yabolo repeated the message from the spirit of Tarum.“Let thy spear be made sharp, O son of MBusa, that we may make the jackal who would command the lion to eat offal!”MYalu grunted.“The son of Bayakala saith that it will be soon, so that thou mayest yet eat of thy defiler ere thou art gone to ghostland.”MYalu turned his head.“The son of MTungo and the son of Maliko,”explained the old man,“have made magic upon the parts which thou didst foolishly leave within thy hut.”Again MYalu merely grunted and turned away his head. But that dread news had quenched the white flame of anger. The spirits were wroth; even had they caused him to eat the dust before all men.[pg 272]Conviction in the efficacy of the magic for which he would have bought Marufa to make against Zalu Zako was as absolute as his faith in the death magic made against him by the two powerful witch-doctors, and intensified by the miraculous return of the Unmentionable One against whom he had committed sacrilege. He recollected the cry of the Baroto bird on the night on which he had kidnapped the Bride of the Banana. The spirit of Tarum was wroth. The mighty new King-God of the Unmentionable One was about to eat up all the enemies of the land. MYalu was convinced that he was doomed; certain that Yabolo knew that he was doomed; that every man knew that he was doomed.For ten minutes the figures, squatting and lying, remained as motionless as bronzes. Then MYalu rose to his knees and said calmly:“Give me thy sword, O son of Zingala.”Silently Yabolo handed him the sword which MYalu placed beneath him and laid down again. So quietly he died.From the sacred hill blared the harsh cry of the yellow bird, as the natives called the trumpet, announcing that the august presence was in audience. But instead of the usual crowd of immobile figures squatted almost under the shadow of the pom-pom within the gate of the fort, sat only the messenger. Sakamata, knowing that something portended and yet not exactly what, was so scared that his skinny limbs quivered as if with an ague. Although he desired to warn Eyes-in-the-hands in order to save himself, he dared not attempt to do so lest the august one visit his anger upon his person; vague ideas of redeeming[pg 273]his treachery by delivering Eyes-in-the-hands over to his countrymen were stoppered by terror of the wrath of the Unmentionable One.So it was that the pomp of the Son-of-the-Earthquake and the glory of the soul of the World-Trembler with many charms upon his breast was reserved for the humble messenger who entered escorted by Sakamata. After bowing in the prescribed manner the messenger squatted at zu Pfeiffer’s feet and addressed himself to the corporal interpreter.“The son of the Lord-of-many-lands, that is the King-God of the One-not-to-be-mentioned, sends greeting to the son of the World-Trembler, called Eyes-in-the-hands, and this message: ‘Say unto the man of many tongues as well as many eyes that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed on the leavings; the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal!’”“What does the animal say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer, impatient of the native preamble.“He says, Bwana,”said the interpreter,“that the white man is sick and cannot move, but that he will come as soon as he is well.”From the folds of his loin cloth the messenger was dutifully extracting something wrapped up in a banana leaf, which he handed to the interpreter as he finished the message:“And by his slave he sendeth that which is mighty magic; such magic that he who toucheth it shall trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant.”“He says, Bwana,”continued the interpreter glibly,“that he sends to the mighty Eater-of-Men a small present,”and with the words the corporal[pg 274]guilelessly proffered the small package. Zu Pfeiffer took it and tore off the covering.…Then was the magic of the new King-god of the Unmentionable One made manifest to all men, and particularly a group of chiefs hiding in a small thicket beneath the hill, for indeed did the Son-of-the-Earthquake trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant at the sight of an ivory disc on which was written:“Amantes—Amentes!”[pg 275]Chapter 27All day at Fort Eitel had been stir and bustle, the blare of trumpets and the barking of sergeants, white and black. Long lines of women and slaves streamed in from the surrounding countryside bearing loads of corn and bananas. In the half-made parade ground at the foot of the hill of Kawa Kendi, half a company of Wongolo whom zu Pfeiffer had conscripted from the chiefs, stumbled and ran in awkward squads. In the hut of the Wongolo chiefs squatted Yabolo among the rest, silently observing the preparations for the punitive expedition which Sakamata had informed them was being prepared in response to the insolent challenge of the white man who had allied himself with the“rebels.”But over them, as well as every Wongolo in and about the place, was a sullen air not of defiance but of expectant listening.In the mess hut a nervous Bakunjala prepared the table for dinner, the whites of his eyes rolling at every sound of zu Pfeiffer’s voice from the marquee adjoining. Never in his experience, nor in that of other servants or soldiers, had the demon so utterly possessed the dread Eater-of-Men as since the receipt of some terrible magic sent to him by the white man. Opinion was divided as to whether this white man was the one who had been arrested and sent to the coast with[pg 276]Corporal Inyira or whether he was a brother; some said that the magic leaf which the messenger had brought was the soul of the white man, others maintained that it was the incarnation of Bakra, which explained why the Eater-of-Men was so entirely possessed. Had he not screamed? they demanded, which clearly proved, as everybody knew, the dreadful agony as the ghost entered into the body.Even the white sergeants were frightened of their chief. They had been seen talking together secretly, doubtless discussing what medicine they could give him to exorcise the demon. Had he not been commanded by this demon to leave the safety of the fort where they had the guns on the hills, and to go into the forest where, as anybody knew, their eyes would be taken from them so that they could not see to kill the dogs of Wongolo? They were all conscious, native-like, that something was brewing among the Wongolo, but what it was exactly they did not know. Two men had had fifty lashes that morning because they had not saluted the totem—flag—correctly; and a Wongolo chief had been shot because he had not brought in the amount of ivory commanded. None dared to warn the Eater-of-Men. Some one had said that the“leaf”was the soul of the idol come to lead the Eater-of-Men to destruction. This idea took deep root among the Wunyamwezi soldiers, for although they had delighted in the slaughter and rapine under the leadership of the Eater-of-Men, yet always had there been an uneasy feeling of sacrilege in destroying an idol.In the half of the marquee reserved for the Kommandant’s[pg 277]private quarters sat zu Pfeiffer in his camp chair with the inevitable stinger at his elbow. Erect by the door stood Sergeant Schultz taking details for the disposition of stores and troops during the absence of the punitive expedition. Never had he in four years’ service seen the lieutenant as he was now. Although Schultz could speak Kiswahili fluently he knew no word of Munyamwezi, else he might have been disposed to agree with Bakunjala and his friends. As it was he thought that the Herr Lieutenant had gotten a touch of the sun or was drinking too heavily or perhaps a bit of both; for to his mind the act of dividing up their scanty forces and leaving their fortified positions to enter the forest, with no chance of keeping open the line of communication, appeared to be military suicide.He deemed it his duty to bring this point of view to his Kommandant’s notice, but he was uncomfortably aware of zu Pfeiffer’s headstrong character.“What time does the moon set, sergeant?”demanded zu Pfeiffer.“About three, Excellence.”“Good. Then at five precisely the column will move. Warn Sergeant Schneider.”“Ya, Excellence.”“You will transfer the remainder of your men and the Nordenfeldt as soon as we have gone.”“Ya, Excellence.”“That is all, sergeant.”Zu Pfeiffer dropped his head wearily on to his[pg 278]hand. Schultz remained rigidly by the door. Zu Pfeiffer glanced up peevishly.“I said that was all, sergeant,”he exclaimed tetchily.“Ya, Excellence.”“Herr Gott, what are you standing there for like a stuffed pig?”Schultz saluted.“Excellence, it is my duty to remind your Excellence that according to regulation 47 of …”“To hell with you and your regulations, damn you.… Will you leave me alone!”The last was almost a plea.“Excellence!”Schultz saluted briskly and went. Again zu Pfeiffer’s head dropped on to the cupped hand and he gazed at the portrait in the ivory frame.… Against the blue twilight of the door appeared a tall figure in white.“What in the name of——”began zu Pfeiffer.“Chakula tayari, Bwana,”announced Bakunjala timidly.“I don’t want any chakula,”said zu Pfeiffer.“Wait. Bring some here.”“Bwana!”Bakunjala fled, to reappear almost instantly with a covered plate, which he placed on the table as bidden and vanished. Zu Pfeiffer regarded distastefully his favourite dish of curried eggs. Then he bawled irritably:“Lights, animal!”[pg 279]“Bwana!”gasped Bakunjala appearing in the doorway with the lamp.But zu Pfeiffer pushed the plate away to stare at the photograph of Lucille. The stare turned to a glare, and then as if mutinying against his god, as Kawa Kendi had done when summoning rain, he suddenly snatched at the frame and flung it upon the floor with an oath, grabbed up a fountain pen and began to write.Indeed zu Pfeiffer was half insane with anger which he was disposed to vent upon Lucille by proxy as the source of yet another trouble and possibly official disgrace. He had not had a notion that Birnier could have survived the gentle hands of the corporal until without warning came that ivory disc with“Amantes—Amentes!”scribbled upon it, which not only inferred that Birnier had escaped, but that he was near to him and intended to champion these native dogs against the Imperial Government in the person of himself.The message had been made the more insulting by the note of exclamation at the end implying derisive laughter. It had, as Birnier had calculated that it would, struck zu Pfeiffer upon the most tender spot in his mental anatomy, evoking a homicidal mania which dominated his consciousness. To be cheated, to be swindled, to be sworn at, cursed, even to be beaten was sufferable to a degree, but to be laughed at—zu Pfeiffer’s haughty soul exploded like a bomb at an impact. For a time he had been absolutely incoherent with rage. His one impulse had been to rush out and tear Birnier limb from limb. Well might the listening natives believe in the mighty[pg 280]magic of the new King-God, that it should make the Son-of-the-Earthquake to trumpet like a wounded cow elephant!Then out of the dissolving acrid smoke of wounded pride begin to loom arbitrary points. First, that Birnier would have complained, as he once had threatened to do, to Washington, which would infuriate the authorities in Berlin; and secondly, that he would have written to Lucille revealing the attempt he had made upon the life of her husband as well as the things he had said. How Birnier had escaped was immaterial, but the particular fate that awaited Corporal Inyira was decided but futilely; for the bold son of Banyala and his merry men were footing it to the south of lake Tanganika, scared by day lest the long arm of the Eater-of-Men should overtake them and haunted by the terror of seeing another illuminated ghost by night.As the jewelled hand glittered in the lamp-light came the mutter of a distant drum on the moist darkness; zu Pfeiffer, abnormally irritable, raised his head, scowled, and muttering that he would have to issue an order to have the drums stopped, bent again to the uncongenial task of finishing the report due for headquarters before he left. The drum ceased; began again and was answered by another drum seemingly nearer at hand.Five or ten minutes elapsed. As zu Pfeiffer took up a fresh sheet of paper a shot rang out followed instantly by yells. Zu Pfeiffer with an oath sprang to his feet, snatched at the revolver hanging above his camp bed and rushed out as a fusillade of shots mingled with wilder cries. The gruff coughs[pg 281]of the corporal in charge of the guard competed with the sharp barks of Sergeant Schultz. Zu Pfeiffer, bawling for a sergeant, ran to the great gate where the pom-pom was stationed. On the opposite hill red flashes of rifle fire darted downwards. Came another outburst of yelling. Forms of askaris scurrying to their places round the fence brushed by him on every side.“Sergeant Schultz!”shouted zu Pfeiffer.A figure in white appeared beside him in the darkness.“Excellence!”“Put the gun on them! Quick!”At the bark of the sergeant the gun crew, already at their post, deftly manipulated the machine which coughed angry red bursts of flame into the darkness. The cries and howls ceased as suddenly as they had begun.“Cease fire!”commanded zu Pfeiffer.In the resulting stillness muttered shouts and cries from somewhere in the village below were punctuated by odd shots from the other hill.“Sergeant Ludwig!”yelled zu Pfeiffer.“Excellence!”“Report!”snapped zu Pfeiffer.“An unknown body of natives attacked and killed the sentry on the eastern gate, Excellence,”came Sergeant Ludwig’s voice from the gloom.“They entered and were repulsed according to instructions. That is all, Excellence.”“Losses?”“None other, Excellence.”“What about the lower guards?”[pg 282]“I do not know, Excellence.”“Take a platoon and investigate. We will cover you with the gun.”“Excellence.”The mutter of his orders was drowned in the excited jabber of the askaris.“Didimalla!”came the dreaded voice of the Eater-of-Men. Instantly there was silence.“Report!”commanded zu Pfeiffer to Sergeant Schultz.“A body of natives attacked upon the western gate, Excellence. They were repulsed.”“Losses?”“Two men killed and three wounded.”“Ugm! Where’s the interpreter?”“Bwana!”Cloth creaked as the man saluted in the dark.“Where is Sakamata?”demanded zu Pfeiffer in Kiswahili.“Here, Excellence,”replied Sergeant Schultz.“He was running away. I had him arrested.”“Good. Bring the animal to my quarters.”“Excellence.”The sergeant and the interpreter, with a trembling Sakamata between them, followed zu Pfeiffer to the tent. As he entered he picked up the portrait in the ivory frame and replaced it carefully on the table and sat down.“Ask the shenzie why he has not informed us of this attack?”The interpreter put the question to the terrified old man who mumbled that he had not known anything about it.[pg 283]“Ugm!”grunted zu Pfeiffer.“Send for a file of men, sergeant, and—— No!”Zu Pfeiffer rose.“I’ll get the truth out of him. Stand aside, corporal!”The corporal obeyed with alacrity as jerking his revolver downwards zu Pfeiffer pulled the trigger. The shot took off two of Sakamata’s smaller toes. The corporal grinned in appreciation. Zu Pfeiffer experienced a shadow of the pleasure he would have had in mutilating Birnier.“Pull him up!”commanded zu Pfeiffer.“Now ask him again!”For a moment or two Sakamata, scarcely conscious of any pain in his fright, could not comprehend what was said; at length he mumbled and muttered. The interpreter lowered his head to listen.“Well?”“He says, Bwana, that he does not know anything; that they will not tell him, but that he has heard that the god has come back.”“The god! What god?”“The god which these shenzie (savages) had here before the Bwana came.”“The idol!”Zu Pfeiffer ripped out an oath. Then glaring questioningly at the shrunken figure on the floor considered.“Tell him he lies. How does he know that the idol has come back if they will not tell him anything?”Again the interpreter jabbered at Sakamata who mumbled back.“He says, Bwana, that his words are white. That[pg 284]they have not told him, but that he has heard the message of the drums. ‘The Fire is lighted!’”“What is that?”“I don’t know, Bwana.”“Ask him, you swine pig!”“He says that whenever there is a new king that they call out those words, meaning that he is come.”“Ugm!”Zu Pfeiffer took out a cigar and lighted it as he considered. I believe the animal is right, he reflected. That swinehund American has done this! He turned sharply to Sergeant Schultz:“Post double guards; bring me Ludwig’s report and take this thing away and have it shot.”“Excellence!”The party went out. Zu Pfeiffer sat smoking fiercely. A single shot rang out. Presently came Sergeant Ludwig in person.“I have to report, Excellence, that the investigation infers that the attack was only made with the purpose of freeing the sons of chiefs, for the picket has been slain but all the others are unhurt save three wounded.”Zu Pfeiffer swore mightily, but he dismissed the sergeant with an admonition to have his troops ready for inspection at four-thirty. He drank a brandy neat and sat on, staring at the darkness. Then suddenly he exclaimed and wheeled to the abandoned report.“This is an undeniable overt act,”he muttered, seeing what he considered an opportunity to neutralise the suppositious complaint which Birnier had sent to Washington; and taking up his pen began a formal[pg 285]accusation against Birnier, as an American subject, for having violated the international laws of the Geneva Convention by aiding and abetting rebels of his Imperial Majesty.

[pg 251]Chapter 24A favourite panacea for the results of a stupid action is the sentiment of martyrdom. When MYalu persisted in bitter reproaches to Yabolo and Sakamata the first retorted that the punishment was the result of having committed the sacrilege of kidnapping the sacred Bride of the Banana. Then MYalu considered that not only had he been trapped by one of his own people whom he had deserted, but to add insult to injury he felt he was not understood. Neither Yabolo nor Sakamata, as Bakahenzie, could comprehend a chief and a warrior making such a fuss over a girl. That the confiscation of MYalu’s property was an insult they both agreed, but biassed by both fear of Eyes-in-the-hands and their own interests, they were disposed to pretend that after all such a small matter as the abduction of a girl could be overlooked when committed by the follower of such a powerful god and magician, as expedience is so often the father of a dispensation. Yet nevertheless in Yabolo, if not in Sakamata, whose hatred of the tribal craft was deep in ratio to the degeneracy of his native code, the outrage upon Bakuma as the Bride of the Banana, while an act of dangerous sacrilege when performed by a Wongolo, violated the half suppressed traditions and kindled a spark of bitter resentment ready to flare up against Eyes-in-the-hands or Sakamata; but being a diplomatist, he concealed that anger, even from himself to a certain degree.[pg 252]Upon MYalu’s arrival in the guest-house to find that Bakuma had been taken, his passion had nearly led to his instant destruction, for he had desired to run amok among the grinning askaris. Afterwards, when the efforts of his friends and the hungry points of bayonets had cooled his ardour, he had wanted to rush straight to Eyes-in-the-hands who, according to Sakamata employed as master of ceremony at the daily audiences, would instantly restore Bakuma to him and visit a terrible punishment upon the evil-doer. But the august presence could not be approached so casually: petition must be made in orthodox form and the royal pleasure awaited meekly.According to the words of the Son-of-the-Earthquake, as zu Pfeiffer was officially designated by his men, who placed the actual name under the tabu in token of the acceptance of the magic purple, came a guard to take away MYalu’s first-born as hostage to the village of the sons of chiefs. Seething with red rage MYalu mutely followed Yabolo to the place appointed for their housing. Then on the following afternoon at the time of audience MYalu waited in the broiling heat for three hand’s-spans of the sun without being summoned to the green temple. And thus it was for three days.But upon the fourth, when MYalu squatted in the general hut in company with Yabolo, Sakamata, and other renegade chiefs, smouldering with bitter resentment, came the pulse of a distant drum, the furious tattoo and long pause, tattoo and long pause, which accompanies the mighty shout at the coronation of a new King-God,“The Fire is lighted!”news that had throbbed from that point within the forest[pg 253]from village to village to the slopes of the Gamballagalla and to the Wamungo country. The perceptible effect upon that circle of bronze figures was a scarcely audible grunt, yet nevertheless the message was like unto a live ember dropped in the dry grass of the cattle country.That morning one of the renegade chiefs had brought in two others to make their allegiance and received as reward for his fidelity a remittance of one-third of the tax levy upon his property, a policy adopted by zu Pfeiffer calculated to encourage the recruiting of his followers by establishing a reputation for lavish generosity to those who obeyed him, in contrast to his merciless severity to the recalcitrant ones.An hour later MYalu was summoned from the sweating throng squatted before the line of demon keepers through the giant ebon guards to audience with the Son-of-the-Earthquake. At the entrance as bidden he knelt, for he knew that he would be compelled did he refuse. A white flame was in his heart, but yet the magnificence of the son of the World Trembler and his satellites, the terrible ghosts of the distant white god, with amulets and charms upon his breast, had awed and subdued MYalu. Then came the voice of Sakamata relating that the chief MYalu, son of MBusa, made complaint to the Son-of-the-Earthquake that his slaves, the keepers of the coughing demons, had taken a girl named Bakuma, daughter of Bakala, and that he craved restitution of his property. While this was being translated by the corporal interpreter, MYalu watched the magic flame in the mouth of Eyes-in-the-hands, marvelling greatly at the smoke which emerged. Then said the interpreter:[pg 254]“The son of the Lord-of-the-World, the Earthquake, the World Trembler who eats up whom he pleases, whose eyes see all things, whose sword slays all things, whose breath is the rain, whose voice is the thunder, whose teeth are the lightning, whose frown is the earthquake, whose smile is the sun, whose ear is the moon, whose eyes are the stars, whose body is the world, saith that when the son of MBusa (MYalu) bringeth three chiefs of the same rank to sit at the Feet then shall the daughter of Bakala return unto him, but in the meantime shall her girdle remain untied. He hath spoken!”As he finished zu Pfeiffer made the signal of dismissal with his jewelled hand, but MYalu with the throb of that distant drum in his ears, cried out in protest, saying:“The words of the Son-of-the-Earthquake are like unto spears made of grass!”The interpreter boggled at the translation of the sentence. Zu Pfeiffer saw a ripple of insubordination. He rapped out an order to have the man taken away and given fifty lashes. Instantly the guards surrounded MYalu, who submitted in sudden misgiving, and led him away to receive the punishment.Zu Pfeiffer gave orders that the girl Bakuma should be found and called the next case, Kalomato the elderly chief who had had all his property sequestered until he should deliver his eldest son as hostage. He was a slight withered old man with a white tuft of beard and at the hands of the askaris, after considerable endurance, had screamed his submission. Now he hobbled into zu Pfeiffer’s presence with the aid of a stick. Pompously the interpreter recited the list of[pg 255]the titles of the august one, and then dwelt upon the wondrous benefits to be obtained at the magic jewelled hands, and demanded that the old chief“eat the dust”and obey the royal mandate.But the sharp eyes gazed steadily from their wrinkled sockets with a curious gleam in them as he mumbled that“his soul had wandered”(he had dreamed)“and had met the spirit of Tarum, who had forbidden him to obey the white god.”“The shenzie”(savage—used contemptuously)“longs for more fire for his paws, O Bwana,”translated the interpreter into Kiswahili.“What does he say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer.“He says, Bwana, that he hath dreamed that his god hath told him that he must not obey you. Indio, Bwana.”“Tell him that I slew his god, as every man knows.”“The Son-of-the-Earthquake bids thee to know that he hath eaten up thy god as he eateth up thy warriors when his wrath is aroused. Eat dust that thy beard grow yet longer; stretch thy tongue and thou shalt be eaten entirely and all that is thine!”“The Fire is lighted,”mumbled the old man.“What does he say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer sharply.“He attempts to make magic against thee, Bwana,”replied the interpreter who knew not the meaning of the phrase.“Take away the animal,”commanded zu Pfeiffer.The old man was accordingly led out to the further attentions of the soldiery. But during that afternoon zu Pfeiffer became conscious of a subtle air of defiance, a restlessness and exchanging of glances, so that the demon which Bakunjala had once seen so vividly came[pg 256]back to roost somewhere beneath the immaculate uniform.Neither he nor his sergeants nor their men could speak the Wongolo tongue fluently, so that for interpreter he was compelled to employ one of the corporals. To employ any newly subjected race or tribe as soldiers or in any responsible capacity is unwise, for ties of blood are liable to lead to treachery; to trust to the idiosyncrasies and personal values of any native interpreter is equally impolitic. Zu Pfeiffer and his party were as unaware of the meaning of the phrases exchanged as they were of the message in the throbbing of that distant drum. Between the conqueror and the subjected tribe was a wall denser than any steel; the same wall of tabu of the craft that Birnier was finding so difficult to penetrate.Every attempt to persuade any of the witch-doctors to disclose the secrets of their craft through the interpreter was doomed to failure; even had zu Pfeiffer been able to speak the dialect as well as Birnier he would never have accomplished it. Yet he tried the impossible. The answer was invariably a mask of ox-like stupidity or the retort that he, being a mighty magician, must needs know that he did but“tickle their feet”! At length, irritated by this persistence, he had Sakamata put to the torture and had for his pains a story in which the idol as the first man was the father of the tribe whom the people believed to have been eaten up literally, so that the conqueror had become the father of the people, having the idol inside him, and the chance that the tale had a faint resemblance to an account by a Frenchman of the superstitions of a West African tribe, convinced him. Implicitly he[pg 257]believed the ingenious yarn invented by a wily witch-doctor to save his hide and the perquisites of his job by placating the white man, the trap into which most white chroniclers have fallen. This conviction, which flattered his sagacity and lulled any suspicions, strengthened his arm in the delivering of punishment and reward.

A favourite panacea for the results of a stupid action is the sentiment of martyrdom. When MYalu persisted in bitter reproaches to Yabolo and Sakamata the first retorted that the punishment was the result of having committed the sacrilege of kidnapping the sacred Bride of the Banana. Then MYalu considered that not only had he been trapped by one of his own people whom he had deserted, but to add insult to injury he felt he was not understood. Neither Yabolo nor Sakamata, as Bakahenzie, could comprehend a chief and a warrior making such a fuss over a girl. That the confiscation of MYalu’s property was an insult they both agreed, but biassed by both fear of Eyes-in-the-hands and their own interests, they were disposed to pretend that after all such a small matter as the abduction of a girl could be overlooked when committed by the follower of such a powerful god and magician, as expedience is so often the father of a dispensation. Yet nevertheless in Yabolo, if not in Sakamata, whose hatred of the tribal craft was deep in ratio to the degeneracy of his native code, the outrage upon Bakuma as the Bride of the Banana, while an act of dangerous sacrilege when performed by a Wongolo, violated the half suppressed traditions and kindled a spark of bitter resentment ready to flare up against Eyes-in-the-hands or Sakamata; but being a diplomatist, he concealed that anger, even from himself to a certain degree.

Upon MYalu’s arrival in the guest-house to find that Bakuma had been taken, his passion had nearly led to his instant destruction, for he had desired to run amok among the grinning askaris. Afterwards, when the efforts of his friends and the hungry points of bayonets had cooled his ardour, he had wanted to rush straight to Eyes-in-the-hands who, according to Sakamata employed as master of ceremony at the daily audiences, would instantly restore Bakuma to him and visit a terrible punishment upon the evil-doer. But the august presence could not be approached so casually: petition must be made in orthodox form and the royal pleasure awaited meekly.

According to the words of the Son-of-the-Earthquake, as zu Pfeiffer was officially designated by his men, who placed the actual name under the tabu in token of the acceptance of the magic purple, came a guard to take away MYalu’s first-born as hostage to the village of the sons of chiefs. Seething with red rage MYalu mutely followed Yabolo to the place appointed for their housing. Then on the following afternoon at the time of audience MYalu waited in the broiling heat for three hand’s-spans of the sun without being summoned to the green temple. And thus it was for three days.

But upon the fourth, when MYalu squatted in the general hut in company with Yabolo, Sakamata, and other renegade chiefs, smouldering with bitter resentment, came the pulse of a distant drum, the furious tattoo and long pause, tattoo and long pause, which accompanies the mighty shout at the coronation of a new King-God,“The Fire is lighted!”news that had throbbed from that point within the forest[pg 253]from village to village to the slopes of the Gamballagalla and to the Wamungo country. The perceptible effect upon that circle of bronze figures was a scarcely audible grunt, yet nevertheless the message was like unto a live ember dropped in the dry grass of the cattle country.

That morning one of the renegade chiefs had brought in two others to make their allegiance and received as reward for his fidelity a remittance of one-third of the tax levy upon his property, a policy adopted by zu Pfeiffer calculated to encourage the recruiting of his followers by establishing a reputation for lavish generosity to those who obeyed him, in contrast to his merciless severity to the recalcitrant ones.

An hour later MYalu was summoned from the sweating throng squatted before the line of demon keepers through the giant ebon guards to audience with the Son-of-the-Earthquake. At the entrance as bidden he knelt, for he knew that he would be compelled did he refuse. A white flame was in his heart, but yet the magnificence of the son of the World Trembler and his satellites, the terrible ghosts of the distant white god, with amulets and charms upon his breast, had awed and subdued MYalu. Then came the voice of Sakamata relating that the chief MYalu, son of MBusa, made complaint to the Son-of-the-Earthquake that his slaves, the keepers of the coughing demons, had taken a girl named Bakuma, daughter of Bakala, and that he craved restitution of his property. While this was being translated by the corporal interpreter, MYalu watched the magic flame in the mouth of Eyes-in-the-hands, marvelling greatly at the smoke which emerged. Then said the interpreter:

“The son of the Lord-of-the-World, the Earthquake, the World Trembler who eats up whom he pleases, whose eyes see all things, whose sword slays all things, whose breath is the rain, whose voice is the thunder, whose teeth are the lightning, whose frown is the earthquake, whose smile is the sun, whose ear is the moon, whose eyes are the stars, whose body is the world, saith that when the son of MBusa (MYalu) bringeth three chiefs of the same rank to sit at the Feet then shall the daughter of Bakala return unto him, but in the meantime shall her girdle remain untied. He hath spoken!”

As he finished zu Pfeiffer made the signal of dismissal with his jewelled hand, but MYalu with the throb of that distant drum in his ears, cried out in protest, saying:

“The words of the Son-of-the-Earthquake are like unto spears made of grass!”

The interpreter boggled at the translation of the sentence. Zu Pfeiffer saw a ripple of insubordination. He rapped out an order to have the man taken away and given fifty lashes. Instantly the guards surrounded MYalu, who submitted in sudden misgiving, and led him away to receive the punishment.

Zu Pfeiffer gave orders that the girl Bakuma should be found and called the next case, Kalomato the elderly chief who had had all his property sequestered until he should deliver his eldest son as hostage. He was a slight withered old man with a white tuft of beard and at the hands of the askaris, after considerable endurance, had screamed his submission. Now he hobbled into zu Pfeiffer’s presence with the aid of a stick. Pompously the interpreter recited the list of[pg 255]the titles of the august one, and then dwelt upon the wondrous benefits to be obtained at the magic jewelled hands, and demanded that the old chief“eat the dust”and obey the royal mandate.

But the sharp eyes gazed steadily from their wrinkled sockets with a curious gleam in them as he mumbled that“his soul had wandered”(he had dreamed)“and had met the spirit of Tarum, who had forbidden him to obey the white god.”

“The shenzie”(savage—used contemptuously)“longs for more fire for his paws, O Bwana,”translated the interpreter into Kiswahili.

“What does he say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer.

“He says, Bwana, that he hath dreamed that his god hath told him that he must not obey you. Indio, Bwana.”

“Tell him that I slew his god, as every man knows.”

“The Son-of-the-Earthquake bids thee to know that he hath eaten up thy god as he eateth up thy warriors when his wrath is aroused. Eat dust that thy beard grow yet longer; stretch thy tongue and thou shalt be eaten entirely and all that is thine!”

“The Fire is lighted,”mumbled the old man.

“What does he say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer sharply.

“He attempts to make magic against thee, Bwana,”replied the interpreter who knew not the meaning of the phrase.

“Take away the animal,”commanded zu Pfeiffer.

The old man was accordingly led out to the further attentions of the soldiery. But during that afternoon zu Pfeiffer became conscious of a subtle air of defiance, a restlessness and exchanging of glances, so that the demon which Bakunjala had once seen so vividly came[pg 256]back to roost somewhere beneath the immaculate uniform.

Neither he nor his sergeants nor their men could speak the Wongolo tongue fluently, so that for interpreter he was compelled to employ one of the corporals. To employ any newly subjected race or tribe as soldiers or in any responsible capacity is unwise, for ties of blood are liable to lead to treachery; to trust to the idiosyncrasies and personal values of any native interpreter is equally impolitic. Zu Pfeiffer and his party were as unaware of the meaning of the phrases exchanged as they were of the message in the throbbing of that distant drum. Between the conqueror and the subjected tribe was a wall denser than any steel; the same wall of tabu of the craft that Birnier was finding so difficult to penetrate.

Every attempt to persuade any of the witch-doctors to disclose the secrets of their craft through the interpreter was doomed to failure; even had zu Pfeiffer been able to speak the dialect as well as Birnier he would never have accomplished it. Yet he tried the impossible. The answer was invariably a mask of ox-like stupidity or the retort that he, being a mighty magician, must needs know that he did but“tickle their feet”! At length, irritated by this persistence, he had Sakamata put to the torture and had for his pains a story in which the idol as the first man was the father of the tribe whom the people believed to have been eaten up literally, so that the conqueror had become the father of the people, having the idol inside him, and the chance that the tale had a faint resemblance to an account by a Frenchman of the superstitions of a West African tribe, convinced him. Implicitly he[pg 257]believed the ingenious yarn invented by a wily witch-doctor to save his hide and the perquisites of his job by placating the white man, the trap into which most white chroniclers have fallen. This conviction, which flattered his sagacity and lulled any suspicions, strengthened his arm in the delivering of punishment and reward.

[pg 258]Chapter 25In the camp of Bakahenzie was the low mutter of the drums by day and night. The village had straggled farther through the forest in each direction save that of the sacred enclosure. Already were some five hundred warriors there and more were pouring in every day. Busy were Bakahenzie and wizards, great and small, in the preparing of amulets of the hearts of lions, livers of leopards and galls of birds, and the brewing of potent decoctions to be smeared with parrot feathers upon the warriors old and young against the evil eye and the spirits of the night. And dispensed by Bakahenzie and Marufa, from whom had come the original idea, was a special and rather expensive charm against the coughing monsters, which was made by, and invested with, the magic of the King-God himself, a can key. That morning had there been a special meeting of the craft and the chiefs before the sacred enclosure, where they had looked upon the sacred form of the King-God and heard the magic elephant’s ear give them instructions and a prophecy. Around and about a hundred fires, flickering mystically in the moist cavern of the forest, shuffled and chanted the warriors invoking the aid of Tarum, the spirit of their ancestors.On the threshold of his hut squatted a sullen Zalu Zako. He had discovered that he had escaped from the river bearing him to the pool of celibacy to find that the bird had been captured by another. Although[pg 259]he had known that before attaining his desire he would have had to extricate Bakuma from the net of the tabu, yet, lover-like and human, that task unconsidered had seemed as easy as stalking a buck in a wood. But the joy of his own release had been dissipated as a cloud of dust by a shower by the news of MYalu’s abduction of the girl and his desertion. Zalu Zako was so obsessed by chagrin at this wholly unexpected appearance of a rival that he was inclined to regret that he had ever thought of the move by which he could escape his late doom and rescue Bakuma at the same time. The illusion of nearness to the desired object had served naturally to whet his appetite; the balked love motive dominated him almost to the exclusion of political affairs. What his official status was now that all precedent had been broken Bakahenzie did not know and had not decided, and Zalu Zako cared less.Though his faith in most of the tribal theology was unshaken, he did not believe in the sanctity, or the necessity, of the marriage of the Bride of the Banana, because he had a defensive complex of desire for her that inhibited that belief. Towards MYalu, Zalu Zako’s natural reaction was revenge. The matter was how to accomplish that end. To reveal to Bakahenzie that he was the lover of Bakuma would be tantamount to admitting sacrilege in having a passion for the Bride of the Banana.As Zalu Zako was unable to get at the person of his rival the most logical method to his mind was by witchcraft. To obtain some relics of the body of MYalu proved easy, as his wives and slaves being forced to flee, had been unable to burn the deserted hut, thus[pg 260]leaving in the customary place in the thatch some of the hair and nail clippings. Also to find an excuse for the cursing of MYalu was still easier. So at a meeting of the chiefs he rivalled Bakahenzie in denunciation of the absconding chief, insisted that a mighty magic be made against him and produced the necessary corporeal parts upon which to work. So it was that Bakahenzie and Marufa, a quiet watchful Marufa, brewed the magic brew and condemned MYalu by the proxy of his nail clippings to die, a process that took root in a very firm conviction in the mind of Zalu Zako and the others that die MYalu would.After this satisfaction of the first fierce instinct Zalu Zako was more at liberty to consider other matters, which resulted in an effort to quicken the collective will to recover the tribe’s country and possessions, symbolised in Zalu Zako’s mind by the delicate figure of Bakuma.The ceremony of the lighting of the new fires he had attended perfunctorily. To have regret or pity for the white man, Moonspirit who had taken over his doom, never occurred to Zalu Zako, for to him as to Bakahenzie Moonspirit was a mighty magician who, if competent to effect the magic he had already displayed, was capable of looking after himself; moreover, as he had recalled the Unmentionable One, he stood as the incarnation of the tribe, the god, therefore beyond human consideration.Bakahenzie’s chief regard was, of course, to unify the tribe once more and to rouse those who had submitted to Eyes-in-the-hands to rebellion, which was but a projection of his desire, as that of all patriots, to consolidate his own position and to regain[pg 261]his lost prestige. He had had no need to command that the news be sent abroad. At the ceremony of the Lighting of the Fires the drum notes had been picked up by the nearest village and sent ricocheting across the length and breadth of the country, rippling through the Court of the Son-of-the-Earthquake.Bakahenzie’s confidence had increased tenfold since, by his clever coup, he had locked up the white magician in the godhead. He believed that Moonspirit was the mightiest magician the world had ever seen, a demi-god; for had he, Bakahenzie, not seen these wondrous miracles with his own eyes? Had not he, Bakahenzie, captured and tamed this marvellous power to his own ends?So absolute was this confidence in the powers of the white that Bakahenzie was perfectly sincere, as Mungongo and Bakuma had been, in asserting that the“son of the Lord-of-many-Lands”was pleased to pretend that“an elephant was a mouse,”that he“tickled their feet.”The only doubt raised in his mind at that interview was whether he could persuade this powerful being to destroy the usurper“out of hand,”as it were, or even whether Moonspirit could do so; for it was quite reasonable to him to suppose that even a god, in fighting another god, might have to do battle for the victory.Not in spite of, but because of, this firm faith Bakahenzie took more precautions than ever before to surround the captured god with the toughest fibres of the tabu to keep him in isolation. Obviously such a valuable prize demanded special precautions. He promulgated an ordinance, in the amplitude of his regained power, that no lay man nor any wizard[pg 262]save the inner cult, whom he dared not forbid, were to approach within sight of the sacred enclosure. In the jungle of his mind lurked the fear that the new god might be seen to leave the sacred ground and thus render the penalty of death imperative according to the laws of the tabu upon a god who jeopardised the tribal welfare as MFunya MPopo had done by his failure to bring rain. The belief that he could control a force which he admitted was infinitely greater than he, and of punishing it if it did not behave, was not at all inconsistent to the native mind, nor more illogical than many theological ideas of whites.At the last interview Bakahenzie had tried to persuade Birnier to permit him to speak into the mighty ear of the magic box; in effect an attempt to gain complete control. But Birnier, when he at length had realised that Bakahenzie’s mental development was little greater than Mungongo’s, and keenly aware of the isolation to which he was to be subjected, as well as the purpose in the witch-doctor’s mind, had resolutely refused. Bakahenzie had accepted the intimation that the god would not work miracles through any other mouth than that of his incarnation, and after a long cogitative silence had departed without further comment.But of course he came back again next day, as Birnier had known that he would. Birnier hinted at the expected initiation into the“mysteries”of the craft, particularly of the Festival of the Banana and the other ceremonies connected with his rôle as King-God. But Bakahenzie’s gaze, fixed upon an object on the toilet table, did not quiver. Birnier repeated the inquiry more bluntly. Said Bakahenzie:[pg 263]“The fingers of the son of Maliko are hungry to touch the magic knife of the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands.”“Damn it,”muttered Birnier.“That’s my favourite!”But he handed the razor to Bakahenzie, saying:“Is not the porridge pot free to all brothers?”Gravely Bakahenzie slipped the safety razor into his loin cloth, mumbled the orthodox adieu and departed.Although devoted to Birnier as much as ever, Mungongo was bound just as much by the articles of the tabu as any other native; in fact, since his appointment to the high office of Keeper of the Fires, he was if possible more terrified by the bogies of their theology than before. Put one foot out of the sacred ground he would not, for he was convinced that immediately he did so, the ghosts of the dead kings would instantly strangle him. Birnier attempted to persuade him to get into communication with Marufa, but that wily gentleman, grieving over the failure of the coup he had aided Birnier to make, and for the moment completely under the domination of Bakahenzie, who, he knew, had him watched every moment of the day and night, would never approach the Place of the Unmentionable One. Nor dared Zalu Zako break the tabu placed by Bakahenzie. To Bakahenzie and not to Birnier he owed his escape from the dreaded godhood. One who had released him might quite reasonably have him back again if annoyed. The few wizards who came to gaze at the imprisoned god like children at the Zoo, as Birnier had commented, were deaf to any remark, instruction, or plea of the Holy One. So it was that Birnier began to realise that[pg 264]the functions of a god were so very purely divine that he would never be allowed to interfere in human affairs at all except by grace of the high priest, and possibly he was not the first god who had found that out.This jungle of secrecy and the denial of any active part in the organising of the tribe began to irritate Birnier. Yet he perceived clearly enough from his knowledge of the native mind that a premature effort to force either confidence or action would end in disaster. Patience and perseverance alone would bring success; and the moulding of the material through forces which already controlled it. He must play the witch-doctor to the full. Working upon this hypothesis he determined to control Bakahenzie through“messages”from the spirit of Tarum. The trouble was to find out whether Bakahenzie would obey him or not and to what extent.So in the early hours of one morning Bakahenzie’s watchers in the forest shuddered as they heard more of the mysterious voices of the Unmentionable One making wondrous magic within the temple as Mungongo chanted, at Birnier’s prompting, the god’s instructions to his high priest and people. The form of the chant was not correct as Mungongo’s memory was very unreliable, but as Birnier remarked to the portrait of Lucille,“I don’t suppose Maestro Bakahenzie is such a stylist as he would have the public suppose.”Afterwards, to Mungongo’s delight, who was never tired of any manifestation of Moonspirit’s magic, he put out the light and lay upon his bed within the temple listening to the voice of Lucille pouring[pg 265]out the passion of“Mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix,”inSamson et Delilah, to the sleepy ears of the monkeys above the figure of the idol limned against the moon-patterned roof of the forest.But scarcely had the moist ultramarine shadows turned to mauve than the voice of Bakahenzie hailed the god most punctiliously from without. However Birnier happened to be sleepy, and the chance of the early hour presented such an opportunity to gain prestige that he sent the Keeper of the Fires to inform the High Priest that the god was not yet up and that he must needs wait. And wait did Bakahenzie, like unto a graven image at the gate until the sun was four hand’s-spans above the trees. When Birnier had breakfasted upon broiled kid, eggs, banana and weak tea, Bakahenzie was summoned to the august presence.Wondering what new idea Bakahenzie had gotten into his head Birnier solemnly talked the usual preliminaries, intending to announce in the best manner that Tarum had a message for the son of Maliko; but to his astonishment Bakahenzie forestalled him by demanding to know when the god would speak again.When Mungongo had gravely placed the machine at his feet Birnier set the record. The chant bade the son of Maliko to summon the wizards and the warriors of the tribe to the abode of the Unmentionable One; to send to those who had fallen into the power of Eyes-in-the-hands instructions that they were not to reveal by word or deed that the Unmentionable One had been pleased to return, but to wait like a wild cat at a fish pool until a signal was[pg 266]given through the drums, when they were to smite swiftly at every keeper of the demons and to flee immediately to their brethren in the forest; that they were on no account to kill or wound Eyes-in-the-hands nor any white man that was his, lest their powerful ghosts exact a terrible penalty and refuse to be propitiated; that when these things had been done would the spirit of Tarum issue further instructions.In composing this message Bernier had sought to gain the advantage of a surprise attack and to secure the massacre of as many of the askaris as possible; to save zu Pfeiffer and his white sergeants from the fate which would await them should they fall into the hands of the Wongolo; to minimise the loss of men which would occur were the tribe to attempt to face the guns; afterwards to lure zu Pfeiffer away from his fortifications and the open country, in order to compel him to fight in the forest where he could not ascertain what force was against him; and in the meantime to slip round and establish the idol in the Place of Kings, which act would consolidate the moral of the tribe as well as cut the line of zu Pfeiffer’s communications with Ingonya.As Bakahenzie listened gravely and attentively, Birnier keenly watched his face. Although the mask did not quiver, a half suppressed grunt at the end persuaded him that Bakahenzie was duly impressed, but he made no comment. After regarding Mungongo solemnly putting away the machine Bakahenzie remarked casually:“In the village is a messenger from Eyes-in-the-hands who sends thee greetings.”[pg 267]This was the first news that Birnier had received since his ascent to the godhood. He had expected that sooner or later zu Pfeiffer would hear of the presence of a white man, but he was rather startled at the inference that zu Pfeiffer knew who he was. He made no visible sign as he waited. Bakahenzie took snuff interestedly and continued:“Eyes-in-the-hands bids thee to go unto the Place of Kings to eat the dust before him.”Bakahenzie regarded him with keen eyes. Birnier considered swiftly. From the latter part of the message he gathered that zu Pfeiffer was not aware of his identity. His opinion of zu Pfeiffer’s character suggested certain psychological possibilities. His policy was to lure him away from his fort; to destroy his military judgment. Therefore to cause him at this juncture to be violently disturbed by a personal emotion might tend to confuse his mind. Enmity—fear—might equally serve as the lure required. In spite of committing a breach of native etiquette Birnier could not resist smiling. He reached for the“Anatomy”and as he scribbled two words he said to Bakahenzie solemnly:“O son of Maliko, say unto this man of many tongues as well as many eyes, ‘that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed upon his leavings; that the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal.’ And shall the slave take unto him that which is mighty magic, such magic that when Eyes-in-the-hands doth but touch it shall he trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant. Bid him to mark that my words be white!”And when Bakahenzie had gone Birnier turned to[pg 268]the portrait on the wall and remarked as he indulged in the luxury of a grin:“Say, honey, but if that doesn’t make him mad, I’ll—I’ll eat my own manuscripts!”

In the camp of Bakahenzie was the low mutter of the drums by day and night. The village had straggled farther through the forest in each direction save that of the sacred enclosure. Already were some five hundred warriors there and more were pouring in every day. Busy were Bakahenzie and wizards, great and small, in the preparing of amulets of the hearts of lions, livers of leopards and galls of birds, and the brewing of potent decoctions to be smeared with parrot feathers upon the warriors old and young against the evil eye and the spirits of the night. And dispensed by Bakahenzie and Marufa, from whom had come the original idea, was a special and rather expensive charm against the coughing monsters, which was made by, and invested with, the magic of the King-God himself, a can key. That morning had there been a special meeting of the craft and the chiefs before the sacred enclosure, where they had looked upon the sacred form of the King-God and heard the magic elephant’s ear give them instructions and a prophecy. Around and about a hundred fires, flickering mystically in the moist cavern of the forest, shuffled and chanted the warriors invoking the aid of Tarum, the spirit of their ancestors.

On the threshold of his hut squatted a sullen Zalu Zako. He had discovered that he had escaped from the river bearing him to the pool of celibacy to find that the bird had been captured by another. Although[pg 259]he had known that before attaining his desire he would have had to extricate Bakuma from the net of the tabu, yet, lover-like and human, that task unconsidered had seemed as easy as stalking a buck in a wood. But the joy of his own release had been dissipated as a cloud of dust by a shower by the news of MYalu’s abduction of the girl and his desertion. Zalu Zako was so obsessed by chagrin at this wholly unexpected appearance of a rival that he was inclined to regret that he had ever thought of the move by which he could escape his late doom and rescue Bakuma at the same time. The illusion of nearness to the desired object had served naturally to whet his appetite; the balked love motive dominated him almost to the exclusion of political affairs. What his official status was now that all precedent had been broken Bakahenzie did not know and had not decided, and Zalu Zako cared less.

Though his faith in most of the tribal theology was unshaken, he did not believe in the sanctity, or the necessity, of the marriage of the Bride of the Banana, because he had a defensive complex of desire for her that inhibited that belief. Towards MYalu, Zalu Zako’s natural reaction was revenge. The matter was how to accomplish that end. To reveal to Bakahenzie that he was the lover of Bakuma would be tantamount to admitting sacrilege in having a passion for the Bride of the Banana.

As Zalu Zako was unable to get at the person of his rival the most logical method to his mind was by witchcraft. To obtain some relics of the body of MYalu proved easy, as his wives and slaves being forced to flee, had been unable to burn the deserted hut, thus[pg 260]leaving in the customary place in the thatch some of the hair and nail clippings. Also to find an excuse for the cursing of MYalu was still easier. So at a meeting of the chiefs he rivalled Bakahenzie in denunciation of the absconding chief, insisted that a mighty magic be made against him and produced the necessary corporeal parts upon which to work. So it was that Bakahenzie and Marufa, a quiet watchful Marufa, brewed the magic brew and condemned MYalu by the proxy of his nail clippings to die, a process that took root in a very firm conviction in the mind of Zalu Zako and the others that die MYalu would.

After this satisfaction of the first fierce instinct Zalu Zako was more at liberty to consider other matters, which resulted in an effort to quicken the collective will to recover the tribe’s country and possessions, symbolised in Zalu Zako’s mind by the delicate figure of Bakuma.

The ceremony of the lighting of the new fires he had attended perfunctorily. To have regret or pity for the white man, Moonspirit who had taken over his doom, never occurred to Zalu Zako, for to him as to Bakahenzie Moonspirit was a mighty magician who, if competent to effect the magic he had already displayed, was capable of looking after himself; moreover, as he had recalled the Unmentionable One, he stood as the incarnation of the tribe, the god, therefore beyond human consideration.

Bakahenzie’s chief regard was, of course, to unify the tribe once more and to rouse those who had submitted to Eyes-in-the-hands to rebellion, which was but a projection of his desire, as that of all patriots, to consolidate his own position and to regain[pg 261]his lost prestige. He had had no need to command that the news be sent abroad. At the ceremony of the Lighting of the Fires the drum notes had been picked up by the nearest village and sent ricocheting across the length and breadth of the country, rippling through the Court of the Son-of-the-Earthquake.

Bakahenzie’s confidence had increased tenfold since, by his clever coup, he had locked up the white magician in the godhead. He believed that Moonspirit was the mightiest magician the world had ever seen, a demi-god; for had he, Bakahenzie, not seen these wondrous miracles with his own eyes? Had not he, Bakahenzie, captured and tamed this marvellous power to his own ends?

So absolute was this confidence in the powers of the white that Bakahenzie was perfectly sincere, as Mungongo and Bakuma had been, in asserting that the“son of the Lord-of-many-Lands”was pleased to pretend that“an elephant was a mouse,”that he“tickled their feet.”The only doubt raised in his mind at that interview was whether he could persuade this powerful being to destroy the usurper“out of hand,”as it were, or even whether Moonspirit could do so; for it was quite reasonable to him to suppose that even a god, in fighting another god, might have to do battle for the victory.

Not in spite of, but because of, this firm faith Bakahenzie took more precautions than ever before to surround the captured god with the toughest fibres of the tabu to keep him in isolation. Obviously such a valuable prize demanded special precautions. He promulgated an ordinance, in the amplitude of his regained power, that no lay man nor any wizard[pg 262]save the inner cult, whom he dared not forbid, were to approach within sight of the sacred enclosure. In the jungle of his mind lurked the fear that the new god might be seen to leave the sacred ground and thus render the penalty of death imperative according to the laws of the tabu upon a god who jeopardised the tribal welfare as MFunya MPopo had done by his failure to bring rain. The belief that he could control a force which he admitted was infinitely greater than he, and of punishing it if it did not behave, was not at all inconsistent to the native mind, nor more illogical than many theological ideas of whites.

At the last interview Bakahenzie had tried to persuade Birnier to permit him to speak into the mighty ear of the magic box; in effect an attempt to gain complete control. But Birnier, when he at length had realised that Bakahenzie’s mental development was little greater than Mungongo’s, and keenly aware of the isolation to which he was to be subjected, as well as the purpose in the witch-doctor’s mind, had resolutely refused. Bakahenzie had accepted the intimation that the god would not work miracles through any other mouth than that of his incarnation, and after a long cogitative silence had departed without further comment.

But of course he came back again next day, as Birnier had known that he would. Birnier hinted at the expected initiation into the“mysteries”of the craft, particularly of the Festival of the Banana and the other ceremonies connected with his rôle as King-God. But Bakahenzie’s gaze, fixed upon an object on the toilet table, did not quiver. Birnier repeated the inquiry more bluntly. Said Bakahenzie:

“The fingers of the son of Maliko are hungry to touch the magic knife of the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands.”

“Damn it,”muttered Birnier.“That’s my favourite!”But he handed the razor to Bakahenzie, saying:“Is not the porridge pot free to all brothers?”Gravely Bakahenzie slipped the safety razor into his loin cloth, mumbled the orthodox adieu and departed.

Although devoted to Birnier as much as ever, Mungongo was bound just as much by the articles of the tabu as any other native; in fact, since his appointment to the high office of Keeper of the Fires, he was if possible more terrified by the bogies of their theology than before. Put one foot out of the sacred ground he would not, for he was convinced that immediately he did so, the ghosts of the dead kings would instantly strangle him. Birnier attempted to persuade him to get into communication with Marufa, but that wily gentleman, grieving over the failure of the coup he had aided Birnier to make, and for the moment completely under the domination of Bakahenzie, who, he knew, had him watched every moment of the day and night, would never approach the Place of the Unmentionable One. Nor dared Zalu Zako break the tabu placed by Bakahenzie. To Bakahenzie and not to Birnier he owed his escape from the dreaded godhood. One who had released him might quite reasonably have him back again if annoyed. The few wizards who came to gaze at the imprisoned god like children at the Zoo, as Birnier had commented, were deaf to any remark, instruction, or plea of the Holy One. So it was that Birnier began to realise that[pg 264]the functions of a god were so very purely divine that he would never be allowed to interfere in human affairs at all except by grace of the high priest, and possibly he was not the first god who had found that out.

This jungle of secrecy and the denial of any active part in the organising of the tribe began to irritate Birnier. Yet he perceived clearly enough from his knowledge of the native mind that a premature effort to force either confidence or action would end in disaster. Patience and perseverance alone would bring success; and the moulding of the material through forces which already controlled it. He must play the witch-doctor to the full. Working upon this hypothesis he determined to control Bakahenzie through“messages”from the spirit of Tarum. The trouble was to find out whether Bakahenzie would obey him or not and to what extent.

So in the early hours of one morning Bakahenzie’s watchers in the forest shuddered as they heard more of the mysterious voices of the Unmentionable One making wondrous magic within the temple as Mungongo chanted, at Birnier’s prompting, the god’s instructions to his high priest and people. The form of the chant was not correct as Mungongo’s memory was very unreliable, but as Birnier remarked to the portrait of Lucille,“I don’t suppose Maestro Bakahenzie is such a stylist as he would have the public suppose.”Afterwards, to Mungongo’s delight, who was never tired of any manifestation of Moonspirit’s magic, he put out the light and lay upon his bed within the temple listening to the voice of Lucille pouring[pg 265]out the passion of“Mon cœur s’ouvre à ta voix,”inSamson et Delilah, to the sleepy ears of the monkeys above the figure of the idol limned against the moon-patterned roof of the forest.

But scarcely had the moist ultramarine shadows turned to mauve than the voice of Bakahenzie hailed the god most punctiliously from without. However Birnier happened to be sleepy, and the chance of the early hour presented such an opportunity to gain prestige that he sent the Keeper of the Fires to inform the High Priest that the god was not yet up and that he must needs wait. And wait did Bakahenzie, like unto a graven image at the gate until the sun was four hand’s-spans above the trees. When Birnier had breakfasted upon broiled kid, eggs, banana and weak tea, Bakahenzie was summoned to the august presence.

Wondering what new idea Bakahenzie had gotten into his head Birnier solemnly talked the usual preliminaries, intending to announce in the best manner that Tarum had a message for the son of Maliko; but to his astonishment Bakahenzie forestalled him by demanding to know when the god would speak again.

When Mungongo had gravely placed the machine at his feet Birnier set the record. The chant bade the son of Maliko to summon the wizards and the warriors of the tribe to the abode of the Unmentionable One; to send to those who had fallen into the power of Eyes-in-the-hands instructions that they were not to reveal by word or deed that the Unmentionable One had been pleased to return, but to wait like a wild cat at a fish pool until a signal was[pg 266]given through the drums, when they were to smite swiftly at every keeper of the demons and to flee immediately to their brethren in the forest; that they were on no account to kill or wound Eyes-in-the-hands nor any white man that was his, lest their powerful ghosts exact a terrible penalty and refuse to be propitiated; that when these things had been done would the spirit of Tarum issue further instructions.

In composing this message Bernier had sought to gain the advantage of a surprise attack and to secure the massacre of as many of the askaris as possible; to save zu Pfeiffer and his white sergeants from the fate which would await them should they fall into the hands of the Wongolo; to minimise the loss of men which would occur were the tribe to attempt to face the guns; afterwards to lure zu Pfeiffer away from his fortifications and the open country, in order to compel him to fight in the forest where he could not ascertain what force was against him; and in the meantime to slip round and establish the idol in the Place of Kings, which act would consolidate the moral of the tribe as well as cut the line of zu Pfeiffer’s communications with Ingonya.

As Bakahenzie listened gravely and attentively, Birnier keenly watched his face. Although the mask did not quiver, a half suppressed grunt at the end persuaded him that Bakahenzie was duly impressed, but he made no comment. After regarding Mungongo solemnly putting away the machine Bakahenzie remarked casually:

“In the village is a messenger from Eyes-in-the-hands who sends thee greetings.”

This was the first news that Birnier had received since his ascent to the godhood. He had expected that sooner or later zu Pfeiffer would hear of the presence of a white man, but he was rather startled at the inference that zu Pfeiffer knew who he was. He made no visible sign as he waited. Bakahenzie took snuff interestedly and continued:

“Eyes-in-the-hands bids thee to go unto the Place of Kings to eat the dust before him.”

Bakahenzie regarded him with keen eyes. Birnier considered swiftly. From the latter part of the message he gathered that zu Pfeiffer was not aware of his identity. His opinion of zu Pfeiffer’s character suggested certain psychological possibilities. His policy was to lure him away from his fort; to destroy his military judgment. Therefore to cause him at this juncture to be violently disturbed by a personal emotion might tend to confuse his mind. Enmity—fear—might equally serve as the lure required. In spite of committing a breach of native etiquette Birnier could not resist smiling. He reached for the“Anatomy”and as he scribbled two words he said to Bakahenzie solemnly:

“O son of Maliko, say unto this man of many tongues as well as many eyes, ‘that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed upon his leavings; that the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal.’ And shall the slave take unto him that which is mighty magic, such magic that when Eyes-in-the-hands doth but touch it shall he trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant. Bid him to mark that my words be white!”

And when Bakahenzie had gone Birnier turned to[pg 268]the portrait on the wall and remarked as he indulged in the luxury of a grin:“Say, honey, but if that doesn’t make him mad, I’ll—I’ll eat my own manuscripts!”

[pg 269]Chapter 26In a corner of one of the half-completed huts in a half-completed street of the new village of the Place of Kings squatted Yabolo and other chiefs. As Sakamata was up in the fort serving Eyes-in-the-hands they could talk freely, yet in low tones and with wary eyes for the interstices of the unfinished wall. More than one chief had been thrashed but none as high in rank as MYalu; moreover, those that had been severely punished had been taken in fair fight or had attempted to escape, whereas MYalu had done nothing that they considered to merit punishment. The growing detestation and hatred smouldering within all of them against the new ruler had burst into flame at the first hint of the news vibrating upon the moist air. Later had come another drum message bidding them await new words of Tarum, and forty-eight hours afterwards the messenger sent by zu Pfeiffer to summon Moonspirit, who squatted in the group, whispered word for word Birnier’s message on the phonograph, adding further instructions from Bakahenzie that the signal should be another message upon the drums:“The Fire is lighted.”Warm banana wrapped in leaves, which a slave had brought in, was placed before the chiefs while the messenger related the gossip of the village in the forest. Later, while lolling through the mid-day heat waiting for the time of audience, he produced[pg 270]from his loin cloth the magic charm which the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands, the King-God, had sent to Eyes-in-the-hands and repeated the prophecy that he should trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant, eliciting many grunts of admiration and awe. Then he inquired for Sakamata and MYalu, and upon hearing the account, reported that they were both traitors and had been condemned to die by the magic of Bakahenzie and Marufa.Each and every chief felt that he had been betrayed by Sakamata. Even Yabolo, his relative, particularly because his visionary schemes had come to nought, was against Sakamata. Sakamata had heard the message of the drums,“The Fire is lighted.”But of the details of the return of the Unmentionable One and of the new King-God he knew nothing, although every other Wongolo man, woman, and child, knew it. The terror of the tabu, of the power of the Unmentionable One, was more overwhelming than his fear of Eyes-in-the-hands, wizard and ex-member of the inner cult though he be. The Unmentionable One had returned, a miracle! In a thousand signs of birds and beasts, twigs and shadows, Sakamata saw omens of evil. He knew that he was an outcast, that his fellows were plotting; that they knew something that he did not; yet he dared not tell Eyes-in-the-hands lest he be killed on the instant, not by Eyes-in-the-hands but by the mystic power of the Unmentionable One.Farther down the line, in a small hut, lay MYalu motionless. His mind was a whirling red spot of rage and pain, obliterating the image of Bakuma, his ivory, and everything. From the base of the spine[pg 271]to his neck he was criss-crossed with bloody weals administered with a kiboko (whip of hippopotamus hide) by one of the black giants who formed the door guard at the tent of Eyes-in-the-hands. More stimulating to his anger even than the excessive pain was the indignity, that he, MYalu, son of MBusa, a chief, had been flogged like a slave before all men! Could he have gotten free he would have leaped upon zu Pfeiffer, god or no, and torn him to pieces with hands and teeth. But he could scarcely move. Never had such an act been conceived by MYalu. The native dignity and reserve was shattered. He lay upon his belly and glared with the eyes of a maddened and tortured animal.The yellow glare in the open doorway was darkened, but MYalu did not stir. The figure of Yabolo, a short throwing sword in hand, moved towards him and squatted down, muttering greetings. MYalu made no response. Yabolo repeated the message from the spirit of Tarum.“Let thy spear be made sharp, O son of MBusa, that we may make the jackal who would command the lion to eat offal!”MYalu grunted.“The son of Bayakala saith that it will be soon, so that thou mayest yet eat of thy defiler ere thou art gone to ghostland.”MYalu turned his head.“The son of MTungo and the son of Maliko,”explained the old man,“have made magic upon the parts which thou didst foolishly leave within thy hut.”Again MYalu merely grunted and turned away his head. But that dread news had quenched the white flame of anger. The spirits were wroth; even had they caused him to eat the dust before all men.[pg 272]Conviction in the efficacy of the magic for which he would have bought Marufa to make against Zalu Zako was as absolute as his faith in the death magic made against him by the two powerful witch-doctors, and intensified by the miraculous return of the Unmentionable One against whom he had committed sacrilege. He recollected the cry of the Baroto bird on the night on which he had kidnapped the Bride of the Banana. The spirit of Tarum was wroth. The mighty new King-God of the Unmentionable One was about to eat up all the enemies of the land. MYalu was convinced that he was doomed; certain that Yabolo knew that he was doomed; that every man knew that he was doomed.For ten minutes the figures, squatting and lying, remained as motionless as bronzes. Then MYalu rose to his knees and said calmly:“Give me thy sword, O son of Zingala.”Silently Yabolo handed him the sword which MYalu placed beneath him and laid down again. So quietly he died.From the sacred hill blared the harsh cry of the yellow bird, as the natives called the trumpet, announcing that the august presence was in audience. But instead of the usual crowd of immobile figures squatted almost under the shadow of the pom-pom within the gate of the fort, sat only the messenger. Sakamata, knowing that something portended and yet not exactly what, was so scared that his skinny limbs quivered as if with an ague. Although he desired to warn Eyes-in-the-hands in order to save himself, he dared not attempt to do so lest the august one visit his anger upon his person; vague ideas of redeeming[pg 273]his treachery by delivering Eyes-in-the-hands over to his countrymen were stoppered by terror of the wrath of the Unmentionable One.So it was that the pomp of the Son-of-the-Earthquake and the glory of the soul of the World-Trembler with many charms upon his breast was reserved for the humble messenger who entered escorted by Sakamata. After bowing in the prescribed manner the messenger squatted at zu Pfeiffer’s feet and addressed himself to the corporal interpreter.“The son of the Lord-of-many-lands, that is the King-God of the One-not-to-be-mentioned, sends greeting to the son of the World-Trembler, called Eyes-in-the-hands, and this message: ‘Say unto the man of many tongues as well as many eyes that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed on the leavings; the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal!’”“What does the animal say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer, impatient of the native preamble.“He says, Bwana,”said the interpreter,“that the white man is sick and cannot move, but that he will come as soon as he is well.”From the folds of his loin cloth the messenger was dutifully extracting something wrapped up in a banana leaf, which he handed to the interpreter as he finished the message:“And by his slave he sendeth that which is mighty magic; such magic that he who toucheth it shall trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant.”“He says, Bwana,”continued the interpreter glibly,“that he sends to the mighty Eater-of-Men a small present,”and with the words the corporal[pg 274]guilelessly proffered the small package. Zu Pfeiffer took it and tore off the covering.…Then was the magic of the new King-god of the Unmentionable One made manifest to all men, and particularly a group of chiefs hiding in a small thicket beneath the hill, for indeed did the Son-of-the-Earthquake trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant at the sight of an ivory disc on which was written:“Amantes—Amentes!”

In a corner of one of the half-completed huts in a half-completed street of the new village of the Place of Kings squatted Yabolo and other chiefs. As Sakamata was up in the fort serving Eyes-in-the-hands they could talk freely, yet in low tones and with wary eyes for the interstices of the unfinished wall. More than one chief had been thrashed but none as high in rank as MYalu; moreover, those that had been severely punished had been taken in fair fight or had attempted to escape, whereas MYalu had done nothing that they considered to merit punishment. The growing detestation and hatred smouldering within all of them against the new ruler had burst into flame at the first hint of the news vibrating upon the moist air. Later had come another drum message bidding them await new words of Tarum, and forty-eight hours afterwards the messenger sent by zu Pfeiffer to summon Moonspirit, who squatted in the group, whispered word for word Birnier’s message on the phonograph, adding further instructions from Bakahenzie that the signal should be another message upon the drums:“The Fire is lighted.”

Warm banana wrapped in leaves, which a slave had brought in, was placed before the chiefs while the messenger related the gossip of the village in the forest. Later, while lolling through the mid-day heat waiting for the time of audience, he produced[pg 270]from his loin cloth the magic charm which the son of the Lord-of-many-Lands, the King-God, had sent to Eyes-in-the-hands and repeated the prophecy that he should trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant, eliciting many grunts of admiration and awe. Then he inquired for Sakamata and MYalu, and upon hearing the account, reported that they were both traitors and had been condemned to die by the magic of Bakahenzie and Marufa.

Each and every chief felt that he had been betrayed by Sakamata. Even Yabolo, his relative, particularly because his visionary schemes had come to nought, was against Sakamata. Sakamata had heard the message of the drums,“The Fire is lighted.”But of the details of the return of the Unmentionable One and of the new King-God he knew nothing, although every other Wongolo man, woman, and child, knew it. The terror of the tabu, of the power of the Unmentionable One, was more overwhelming than his fear of Eyes-in-the-hands, wizard and ex-member of the inner cult though he be. The Unmentionable One had returned, a miracle! In a thousand signs of birds and beasts, twigs and shadows, Sakamata saw omens of evil. He knew that he was an outcast, that his fellows were plotting; that they knew something that he did not; yet he dared not tell Eyes-in-the-hands lest he be killed on the instant, not by Eyes-in-the-hands but by the mystic power of the Unmentionable One.

Farther down the line, in a small hut, lay MYalu motionless. His mind was a whirling red spot of rage and pain, obliterating the image of Bakuma, his ivory, and everything. From the base of the spine[pg 271]to his neck he was criss-crossed with bloody weals administered with a kiboko (whip of hippopotamus hide) by one of the black giants who formed the door guard at the tent of Eyes-in-the-hands. More stimulating to his anger even than the excessive pain was the indignity, that he, MYalu, son of MBusa, a chief, had been flogged like a slave before all men! Could he have gotten free he would have leaped upon zu Pfeiffer, god or no, and torn him to pieces with hands and teeth. But he could scarcely move. Never had such an act been conceived by MYalu. The native dignity and reserve was shattered. He lay upon his belly and glared with the eyes of a maddened and tortured animal.

The yellow glare in the open doorway was darkened, but MYalu did not stir. The figure of Yabolo, a short throwing sword in hand, moved towards him and squatted down, muttering greetings. MYalu made no response. Yabolo repeated the message from the spirit of Tarum.

“Let thy spear be made sharp, O son of MBusa, that we may make the jackal who would command the lion to eat offal!”MYalu grunted.“The son of Bayakala saith that it will be soon, so that thou mayest yet eat of thy defiler ere thou art gone to ghostland.”MYalu turned his head.“The son of MTungo and the son of Maliko,”explained the old man,“have made magic upon the parts which thou didst foolishly leave within thy hut.”

Again MYalu merely grunted and turned away his head. But that dread news had quenched the white flame of anger. The spirits were wroth; even had they caused him to eat the dust before all men.[pg 272]Conviction in the efficacy of the magic for which he would have bought Marufa to make against Zalu Zako was as absolute as his faith in the death magic made against him by the two powerful witch-doctors, and intensified by the miraculous return of the Unmentionable One against whom he had committed sacrilege. He recollected the cry of the Baroto bird on the night on which he had kidnapped the Bride of the Banana. The spirit of Tarum was wroth. The mighty new King-God of the Unmentionable One was about to eat up all the enemies of the land. MYalu was convinced that he was doomed; certain that Yabolo knew that he was doomed; that every man knew that he was doomed.

For ten minutes the figures, squatting and lying, remained as motionless as bronzes. Then MYalu rose to his knees and said calmly:“Give me thy sword, O son of Zingala.”

Silently Yabolo handed him the sword which MYalu placed beneath him and laid down again. So quietly he died.

From the sacred hill blared the harsh cry of the yellow bird, as the natives called the trumpet, announcing that the august presence was in audience. But instead of the usual crowd of immobile figures squatted almost under the shadow of the pom-pom within the gate of the fort, sat only the messenger. Sakamata, knowing that something portended and yet not exactly what, was so scared that his skinny limbs quivered as if with an ague. Although he desired to warn Eyes-in-the-hands in order to save himself, he dared not attempt to do so lest the august one visit his anger upon his person; vague ideas of redeeming[pg 273]his treachery by delivering Eyes-in-the-hands over to his countrymen were stoppered by terror of the wrath of the Unmentionable One.

So it was that the pomp of the Son-of-the-Earthquake and the glory of the soul of the World-Trembler with many charms upon his breast was reserved for the humble messenger who entered escorted by Sakamata. After bowing in the prescribed manner the messenger squatted at zu Pfeiffer’s feet and addressed himself to the corporal interpreter.

“The son of the Lord-of-many-lands, that is the King-God of the One-not-to-be-mentioned, sends greeting to the son of the World-Trembler, called Eyes-in-the-hands, and this message: ‘Say unto the man of many tongues as well as many eyes that the jackal follows the lion that he may feed on the leavings; the voice of the hyena is loudest when he eateth offal!’”

“What does the animal say?”demanded zu Pfeiffer, impatient of the native preamble.

“He says, Bwana,”said the interpreter,“that the white man is sick and cannot move, but that he will come as soon as he is well.”

From the folds of his loin cloth the messenger was dutifully extracting something wrapped up in a banana leaf, which he handed to the interpreter as he finished the message:

“And by his slave he sendeth that which is mighty magic; such magic that he who toucheth it shall trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant.”

“He says, Bwana,”continued the interpreter glibly,“that he sends to the mighty Eater-of-Men a small present,”and with the words the corporal[pg 274]guilelessly proffered the small package. Zu Pfeiffer took it and tore off the covering.…

Then was the magic of the new King-god of the Unmentionable One made manifest to all men, and particularly a group of chiefs hiding in a small thicket beneath the hill, for indeed did the Son-of-the-Earthquake trumpet like unto a wounded cow elephant at the sight of an ivory disc on which was written:

“Amantes—Amentes!”

[pg 275]Chapter 27All day at Fort Eitel had been stir and bustle, the blare of trumpets and the barking of sergeants, white and black. Long lines of women and slaves streamed in from the surrounding countryside bearing loads of corn and bananas. In the half-made parade ground at the foot of the hill of Kawa Kendi, half a company of Wongolo whom zu Pfeiffer had conscripted from the chiefs, stumbled and ran in awkward squads. In the hut of the Wongolo chiefs squatted Yabolo among the rest, silently observing the preparations for the punitive expedition which Sakamata had informed them was being prepared in response to the insolent challenge of the white man who had allied himself with the“rebels.”But over them, as well as every Wongolo in and about the place, was a sullen air not of defiance but of expectant listening.In the mess hut a nervous Bakunjala prepared the table for dinner, the whites of his eyes rolling at every sound of zu Pfeiffer’s voice from the marquee adjoining. Never in his experience, nor in that of other servants or soldiers, had the demon so utterly possessed the dread Eater-of-Men as since the receipt of some terrible magic sent to him by the white man. Opinion was divided as to whether this white man was the one who had been arrested and sent to the coast with[pg 276]Corporal Inyira or whether he was a brother; some said that the magic leaf which the messenger had brought was the soul of the white man, others maintained that it was the incarnation of Bakra, which explained why the Eater-of-Men was so entirely possessed. Had he not screamed? they demanded, which clearly proved, as everybody knew, the dreadful agony as the ghost entered into the body.Even the white sergeants were frightened of their chief. They had been seen talking together secretly, doubtless discussing what medicine they could give him to exorcise the demon. Had he not been commanded by this demon to leave the safety of the fort where they had the guns on the hills, and to go into the forest where, as anybody knew, their eyes would be taken from them so that they could not see to kill the dogs of Wongolo? They were all conscious, native-like, that something was brewing among the Wongolo, but what it was exactly they did not know. Two men had had fifty lashes that morning because they had not saluted the totem—flag—correctly; and a Wongolo chief had been shot because he had not brought in the amount of ivory commanded. None dared to warn the Eater-of-Men. Some one had said that the“leaf”was the soul of the idol come to lead the Eater-of-Men to destruction. This idea took deep root among the Wunyamwezi soldiers, for although they had delighted in the slaughter and rapine under the leadership of the Eater-of-Men, yet always had there been an uneasy feeling of sacrilege in destroying an idol.In the half of the marquee reserved for the Kommandant’s[pg 277]private quarters sat zu Pfeiffer in his camp chair with the inevitable stinger at his elbow. Erect by the door stood Sergeant Schultz taking details for the disposition of stores and troops during the absence of the punitive expedition. Never had he in four years’ service seen the lieutenant as he was now. Although Schultz could speak Kiswahili fluently he knew no word of Munyamwezi, else he might have been disposed to agree with Bakunjala and his friends. As it was he thought that the Herr Lieutenant had gotten a touch of the sun or was drinking too heavily or perhaps a bit of both; for to his mind the act of dividing up their scanty forces and leaving their fortified positions to enter the forest, with no chance of keeping open the line of communication, appeared to be military suicide.He deemed it his duty to bring this point of view to his Kommandant’s notice, but he was uncomfortably aware of zu Pfeiffer’s headstrong character.“What time does the moon set, sergeant?”demanded zu Pfeiffer.“About three, Excellence.”“Good. Then at five precisely the column will move. Warn Sergeant Schneider.”“Ya, Excellence.”“You will transfer the remainder of your men and the Nordenfeldt as soon as we have gone.”“Ya, Excellence.”“That is all, sergeant.”Zu Pfeiffer dropped his head wearily on to his[pg 278]hand. Schultz remained rigidly by the door. Zu Pfeiffer glanced up peevishly.“I said that was all, sergeant,”he exclaimed tetchily.“Ya, Excellence.”“Herr Gott, what are you standing there for like a stuffed pig?”Schultz saluted.“Excellence, it is my duty to remind your Excellence that according to regulation 47 of …”“To hell with you and your regulations, damn you.… Will you leave me alone!”The last was almost a plea.“Excellence!”Schultz saluted briskly and went. Again zu Pfeiffer’s head dropped on to the cupped hand and he gazed at the portrait in the ivory frame.… Against the blue twilight of the door appeared a tall figure in white.“What in the name of——”began zu Pfeiffer.“Chakula tayari, Bwana,”announced Bakunjala timidly.“I don’t want any chakula,”said zu Pfeiffer.“Wait. Bring some here.”“Bwana!”Bakunjala fled, to reappear almost instantly with a covered plate, which he placed on the table as bidden and vanished. Zu Pfeiffer regarded distastefully his favourite dish of curried eggs. Then he bawled irritably:“Lights, animal!”[pg 279]“Bwana!”gasped Bakunjala appearing in the doorway with the lamp.But zu Pfeiffer pushed the plate away to stare at the photograph of Lucille. The stare turned to a glare, and then as if mutinying against his god, as Kawa Kendi had done when summoning rain, he suddenly snatched at the frame and flung it upon the floor with an oath, grabbed up a fountain pen and began to write.Indeed zu Pfeiffer was half insane with anger which he was disposed to vent upon Lucille by proxy as the source of yet another trouble and possibly official disgrace. He had not had a notion that Birnier could have survived the gentle hands of the corporal until without warning came that ivory disc with“Amantes—Amentes!”scribbled upon it, which not only inferred that Birnier had escaped, but that he was near to him and intended to champion these native dogs against the Imperial Government in the person of himself.The message had been made the more insulting by the note of exclamation at the end implying derisive laughter. It had, as Birnier had calculated that it would, struck zu Pfeiffer upon the most tender spot in his mental anatomy, evoking a homicidal mania which dominated his consciousness. To be cheated, to be swindled, to be sworn at, cursed, even to be beaten was sufferable to a degree, but to be laughed at—zu Pfeiffer’s haughty soul exploded like a bomb at an impact. For a time he had been absolutely incoherent with rage. His one impulse had been to rush out and tear Birnier limb from limb. Well might the listening natives believe in the mighty[pg 280]magic of the new King-God, that it should make the Son-of-the-Earthquake to trumpet like a wounded cow elephant!Then out of the dissolving acrid smoke of wounded pride begin to loom arbitrary points. First, that Birnier would have complained, as he once had threatened to do, to Washington, which would infuriate the authorities in Berlin; and secondly, that he would have written to Lucille revealing the attempt he had made upon the life of her husband as well as the things he had said. How Birnier had escaped was immaterial, but the particular fate that awaited Corporal Inyira was decided but futilely; for the bold son of Banyala and his merry men were footing it to the south of lake Tanganika, scared by day lest the long arm of the Eater-of-Men should overtake them and haunted by the terror of seeing another illuminated ghost by night.As the jewelled hand glittered in the lamp-light came the mutter of a distant drum on the moist darkness; zu Pfeiffer, abnormally irritable, raised his head, scowled, and muttering that he would have to issue an order to have the drums stopped, bent again to the uncongenial task of finishing the report due for headquarters before he left. The drum ceased; began again and was answered by another drum seemingly nearer at hand.Five or ten minutes elapsed. As zu Pfeiffer took up a fresh sheet of paper a shot rang out followed instantly by yells. Zu Pfeiffer with an oath sprang to his feet, snatched at the revolver hanging above his camp bed and rushed out as a fusillade of shots mingled with wilder cries. The gruff coughs[pg 281]of the corporal in charge of the guard competed with the sharp barks of Sergeant Schultz. Zu Pfeiffer, bawling for a sergeant, ran to the great gate where the pom-pom was stationed. On the opposite hill red flashes of rifle fire darted downwards. Came another outburst of yelling. Forms of askaris scurrying to their places round the fence brushed by him on every side.“Sergeant Schultz!”shouted zu Pfeiffer.A figure in white appeared beside him in the darkness.“Excellence!”“Put the gun on them! Quick!”At the bark of the sergeant the gun crew, already at their post, deftly manipulated the machine which coughed angry red bursts of flame into the darkness. The cries and howls ceased as suddenly as they had begun.“Cease fire!”commanded zu Pfeiffer.In the resulting stillness muttered shouts and cries from somewhere in the village below were punctuated by odd shots from the other hill.“Sergeant Ludwig!”yelled zu Pfeiffer.“Excellence!”“Report!”snapped zu Pfeiffer.“An unknown body of natives attacked and killed the sentry on the eastern gate, Excellence,”came Sergeant Ludwig’s voice from the gloom.“They entered and were repulsed according to instructions. That is all, Excellence.”“Losses?”“None other, Excellence.”“What about the lower guards?”[pg 282]“I do not know, Excellence.”“Take a platoon and investigate. We will cover you with the gun.”“Excellence.”The mutter of his orders was drowned in the excited jabber of the askaris.“Didimalla!”came the dreaded voice of the Eater-of-Men. Instantly there was silence.“Report!”commanded zu Pfeiffer to Sergeant Schultz.“A body of natives attacked upon the western gate, Excellence. They were repulsed.”“Losses?”“Two men killed and three wounded.”“Ugm! Where’s the interpreter?”“Bwana!”Cloth creaked as the man saluted in the dark.“Where is Sakamata?”demanded zu Pfeiffer in Kiswahili.“Here, Excellence,”replied Sergeant Schultz.“He was running away. I had him arrested.”“Good. Bring the animal to my quarters.”“Excellence.”The sergeant and the interpreter, with a trembling Sakamata between them, followed zu Pfeiffer to the tent. As he entered he picked up the portrait in the ivory frame and replaced it carefully on the table and sat down.“Ask the shenzie why he has not informed us of this attack?”The interpreter put the question to the terrified old man who mumbled that he had not known anything about it.[pg 283]“Ugm!”grunted zu Pfeiffer.“Send for a file of men, sergeant, and—— No!”Zu Pfeiffer rose.“I’ll get the truth out of him. Stand aside, corporal!”The corporal obeyed with alacrity as jerking his revolver downwards zu Pfeiffer pulled the trigger. The shot took off two of Sakamata’s smaller toes. The corporal grinned in appreciation. Zu Pfeiffer experienced a shadow of the pleasure he would have had in mutilating Birnier.“Pull him up!”commanded zu Pfeiffer.“Now ask him again!”For a moment or two Sakamata, scarcely conscious of any pain in his fright, could not comprehend what was said; at length he mumbled and muttered. The interpreter lowered his head to listen.“Well?”“He says, Bwana, that he does not know anything; that they will not tell him, but that he has heard that the god has come back.”“The god! What god?”“The god which these shenzie (savages) had here before the Bwana came.”“The idol!”Zu Pfeiffer ripped out an oath. Then glaring questioningly at the shrunken figure on the floor considered.“Tell him he lies. How does he know that the idol has come back if they will not tell him anything?”Again the interpreter jabbered at Sakamata who mumbled back.“He says, Bwana, that his words are white. That[pg 284]they have not told him, but that he has heard the message of the drums. ‘The Fire is lighted!’”“What is that?”“I don’t know, Bwana.”“Ask him, you swine pig!”“He says that whenever there is a new king that they call out those words, meaning that he is come.”“Ugm!”Zu Pfeiffer took out a cigar and lighted it as he considered. I believe the animal is right, he reflected. That swinehund American has done this! He turned sharply to Sergeant Schultz:“Post double guards; bring me Ludwig’s report and take this thing away and have it shot.”“Excellence!”The party went out. Zu Pfeiffer sat smoking fiercely. A single shot rang out. Presently came Sergeant Ludwig in person.“I have to report, Excellence, that the investigation infers that the attack was only made with the purpose of freeing the sons of chiefs, for the picket has been slain but all the others are unhurt save three wounded.”Zu Pfeiffer swore mightily, but he dismissed the sergeant with an admonition to have his troops ready for inspection at four-thirty. He drank a brandy neat and sat on, staring at the darkness. Then suddenly he exclaimed and wheeled to the abandoned report.“This is an undeniable overt act,”he muttered, seeing what he considered an opportunity to neutralise the suppositious complaint which Birnier had sent to Washington; and taking up his pen began a formal[pg 285]accusation against Birnier, as an American subject, for having violated the international laws of the Geneva Convention by aiding and abetting rebels of his Imperial Majesty.

All day at Fort Eitel had been stir and bustle, the blare of trumpets and the barking of sergeants, white and black. Long lines of women and slaves streamed in from the surrounding countryside bearing loads of corn and bananas. In the half-made parade ground at the foot of the hill of Kawa Kendi, half a company of Wongolo whom zu Pfeiffer had conscripted from the chiefs, stumbled and ran in awkward squads. In the hut of the Wongolo chiefs squatted Yabolo among the rest, silently observing the preparations for the punitive expedition which Sakamata had informed them was being prepared in response to the insolent challenge of the white man who had allied himself with the“rebels.”But over them, as well as every Wongolo in and about the place, was a sullen air not of defiance but of expectant listening.

In the mess hut a nervous Bakunjala prepared the table for dinner, the whites of his eyes rolling at every sound of zu Pfeiffer’s voice from the marquee adjoining. Never in his experience, nor in that of other servants or soldiers, had the demon so utterly possessed the dread Eater-of-Men as since the receipt of some terrible magic sent to him by the white man. Opinion was divided as to whether this white man was the one who had been arrested and sent to the coast with[pg 276]Corporal Inyira or whether he was a brother; some said that the magic leaf which the messenger had brought was the soul of the white man, others maintained that it was the incarnation of Bakra, which explained why the Eater-of-Men was so entirely possessed. Had he not screamed? they demanded, which clearly proved, as everybody knew, the dreadful agony as the ghost entered into the body.

Even the white sergeants were frightened of their chief. They had been seen talking together secretly, doubtless discussing what medicine they could give him to exorcise the demon. Had he not been commanded by this demon to leave the safety of the fort where they had the guns on the hills, and to go into the forest where, as anybody knew, their eyes would be taken from them so that they could not see to kill the dogs of Wongolo? They were all conscious, native-like, that something was brewing among the Wongolo, but what it was exactly they did not know. Two men had had fifty lashes that morning because they had not saluted the totem—flag—correctly; and a Wongolo chief had been shot because he had not brought in the amount of ivory commanded. None dared to warn the Eater-of-Men. Some one had said that the“leaf”was the soul of the idol come to lead the Eater-of-Men to destruction. This idea took deep root among the Wunyamwezi soldiers, for although they had delighted in the slaughter and rapine under the leadership of the Eater-of-Men, yet always had there been an uneasy feeling of sacrilege in destroying an idol.

In the half of the marquee reserved for the Kommandant’s[pg 277]private quarters sat zu Pfeiffer in his camp chair with the inevitable stinger at his elbow. Erect by the door stood Sergeant Schultz taking details for the disposition of stores and troops during the absence of the punitive expedition. Never had he in four years’ service seen the lieutenant as he was now. Although Schultz could speak Kiswahili fluently he knew no word of Munyamwezi, else he might have been disposed to agree with Bakunjala and his friends. As it was he thought that the Herr Lieutenant had gotten a touch of the sun or was drinking too heavily or perhaps a bit of both; for to his mind the act of dividing up their scanty forces and leaving their fortified positions to enter the forest, with no chance of keeping open the line of communication, appeared to be military suicide.

He deemed it his duty to bring this point of view to his Kommandant’s notice, but he was uncomfortably aware of zu Pfeiffer’s headstrong character.

“What time does the moon set, sergeant?”demanded zu Pfeiffer.

“About three, Excellence.”

“Good. Then at five precisely the column will move. Warn Sergeant Schneider.”

“Ya, Excellence.”

“You will transfer the remainder of your men and the Nordenfeldt as soon as we have gone.”

“Ya, Excellence.”

“That is all, sergeant.”

Zu Pfeiffer dropped his head wearily on to his[pg 278]hand. Schultz remained rigidly by the door. Zu Pfeiffer glanced up peevishly.

“I said that was all, sergeant,”he exclaimed tetchily.

“Ya, Excellence.”

“Herr Gott, what are you standing there for like a stuffed pig?”

Schultz saluted.

“Excellence, it is my duty to remind your Excellence that according to regulation 47 of …”

“To hell with you and your regulations, damn you.… Will you leave me alone!”The last was almost a plea.

“Excellence!”

Schultz saluted briskly and went. Again zu Pfeiffer’s head dropped on to the cupped hand and he gazed at the portrait in the ivory frame.… Against the blue twilight of the door appeared a tall figure in white.

“What in the name of——”began zu Pfeiffer.

“Chakula tayari, Bwana,”announced Bakunjala timidly.

“I don’t want any chakula,”said zu Pfeiffer.“Wait. Bring some here.”

“Bwana!”

Bakunjala fled, to reappear almost instantly with a covered plate, which he placed on the table as bidden and vanished. Zu Pfeiffer regarded distastefully his favourite dish of curried eggs. Then he bawled irritably:

“Lights, animal!”

“Bwana!”gasped Bakunjala appearing in the doorway with the lamp.

But zu Pfeiffer pushed the plate away to stare at the photograph of Lucille. The stare turned to a glare, and then as if mutinying against his god, as Kawa Kendi had done when summoning rain, he suddenly snatched at the frame and flung it upon the floor with an oath, grabbed up a fountain pen and began to write.

Indeed zu Pfeiffer was half insane with anger which he was disposed to vent upon Lucille by proxy as the source of yet another trouble and possibly official disgrace. He had not had a notion that Birnier could have survived the gentle hands of the corporal until without warning came that ivory disc with“Amantes—Amentes!”scribbled upon it, which not only inferred that Birnier had escaped, but that he was near to him and intended to champion these native dogs against the Imperial Government in the person of himself.

The message had been made the more insulting by the note of exclamation at the end implying derisive laughter. It had, as Birnier had calculated that it would, struck zu Pfeiffer upon the most tender spot in his mental anatomy, evoking a homicidal mania which dominated his consciousness. To be cheated, to be swindled, to be sworn at, cursed, even to be beaten was sufferable to a degree, but to be laughed at—zu Pfeiffer’s haughty soul exploded like a bomb at an impact. For a time he had been absolutely incoherent with rage. His one impulse had been to rush out and tear Birnier limb from limb. Well might the listening natives believe in the mighty[pg 280]magic of the new King-God, that it should make the Son-of-the-Earthquake to trumpet like a wounded cow elephant!

Then out of the dissolving acrid smoke of wounded pride begin to loom arbitrary points. First, that Birnier would have complained, as he once had threatened to do, to Washington, which would infuriate the authorities in Berlin; and secondly, that he would have written to Lucille revealing the attempt he had made upon the life of her husband as well as the things he had said. How Birnier had escaped was immaterial, but the particular fate that awaited Corporal Inyira was decided but futilely; for the bold son of Banyala and his merry men were footing it to the south of lake Tanganika, scared by day lest the long arm of the Eater-of-Men should overtake them and haunted by the terror of seeing another illuminated ghost by night.

As the jewelled hand glittered in the lamp-light came the mutter of a distant drum on the moist darkness; zu Pfeiffer, abnormally irritable, raised his head, scowled, and muttering that he would have to issue an order to have the drums stopped, bent again to the uncongenial task of finishing the report due for headquarters before he left. The drum ceased; began again and was answered by another drum seemingly nearer at hand.

Five or ten minutes elapsed. As zu Pfeiffer took up a fresh sheet of paper a shot rang out followed instantly by yells. Zu Pfeiffer with an oath sprang to his feet, snatched at the revolver hanging above his camp bed and rushed out as a fusillade of shots mingled with wilder cries. The gruff coughs[pg 281]of the corporal in charge of the guard competed with the sharp barks of Sergeant Schultz. Zu Pfeiffer, bawling for a sergeant, ran to the great gate where the pom-pom was stationed. On the opposite hill red flashes of rifle fire darted downwards. Came another outburst of yelling. Forms of askaris scurrying to their places round the fence brushed by him on every side.

“Sergeant Schultz!”shouted zu Pfeiffer.

A figure in white appeared beside him in the darkness.

“Excellence!”

“Put the gun on them! Quick!”

At the bark of the sergeant the gun crew, already at their post, deftly manipulated the machine which coughed angry red bursts of flame into the darkness. The cries and howls ceased as suddenly as they had begun.

“Cease fire!”commanded zu Pfeiffer.

In the resulting stillness muttered shouts and cries from somewhere in the village below were punctuated by odd shots from the other hill.

“Sergeant Ludwig!”yelled zu Pfeiffer.

“Excellence!”

“Report!”snapped zu Pfeiffer.

“An unknown body of natives attacked and killed the sentry on the eastern gate, Excellence,”came Sergeant Ludwig’s voice from the gloom.“They entered and were repulsed according to instructions. That is all, Excellence.”

“Losses?”

“None other, Excellence.”

“What about the lower guards?”

“I do not know, Excellence.”

“Take a platoon and investigate. We will cover you with the gun.”

“Excellence.”

The mutter of his orders was drowned in the excited jabber of the askaris.

“Didimalla!”came the dreaded voice of the Eater-of-Men. Instantly there was silence.“Report!”commanded zu Pfeiffer to Sergeant Schultz.

“A body of natives attacked upon the western gate, Excellence. They were repulsed.”

“Losses?”

“Two men killed and three wounded.”

“Ugm! Where’s the interpreter?”

“Bwana!”

Cloth creaked as the man saluted in the dark.

“Where is Sakamata?”demanded zu Pfeiffer in Kiswahili.

“Here, Excellence,”replied Sergeant Schultz.“He was running away. I had him arrested.”

“Good. Bring the animal to my quarters.”

“Excellence.”

The sergeant and the interpreter, with a trembling Sakamata between them, followed zu Pfeiffer to the tent. As he entered he picked up the portrait in the ivory frame and replaced it carefully on the table and sat down.

“Ask the shenzie why he has not informed us of this attack?”

The interpreter put the question to the terrified old man who mumbled that he had not known anything about it.

“Ugm!”grunted zu Pfeiffer.“Send for a file of men, sergeant, and—— No!”Zu Pfeiffer rose.“I’ll get the truth out of him. Stand aside, corporal!”

The corporal obeyed with alacrity as jerking his revolver downwards zu Pfeiffer pulled the trigger. The shot took off two of Sakamata’s smaller toes. The corporal grinned in appreciation. Zu Pfeiffer experienced a shadow of the pleasure he would have had in mutilating Birnier.

“Pull him up!”commanded zu Pfeiffer.“Now ask him again!”

For a moment or two Sakamata, scarcely conscious of any pain in his fright, could not comprehend what was said; at length he mumbled and muttered. The interpreter lowered his head to listen.

“Well?”

“He says, Bwana, that he does not know anything; that they will not tell him, but that he has heard that the god has come back.”

“The god! What god?”

“The god which these shenzie (savages) had here before the Bwana came.”

“The idol!”Zu Pfeiffer ripped out an oath. Then glaring questioningly at the shrunken figure on the floor considered.

“Tell him he lies. How does he know that the idol has come back if they will not tell him anything?”

Again the interpreter jabbered at Sakamata who mumbled back.

“He says, Bwana, that his words are white. That[pg 284]they have not told him, but that he has heard the message of the drums. ‘The Fire is lighted!’”

“What is that?”

“I don’t know, Bwana.”

“Ask him, you swine pig!”

“He says that whenever there is a new king that they call out those words, meaning that he is come.”

“Ugm!”Zu Pfeiffer took out a cigar and lighted it as he considered. I believe the animal is right, he reflected. That swinehund American has done this! He turned sharply to Sergeant Schultz:“Post double guards; bring me Ludwig’s report and take this thing away and have it shot.”

“Excellence!”

The party went out. Zu Pfeiffer sat smoking fiercely. A single shot rang out. Presently came Sergeant Ludwig in person.

“I have to report, Excellence, that the investigation infers that the attack was only made with the purpose of freeing the sons of chiefs, for the picket has been slain but all the others are unhurt save three wounded.”

Zu Pfeiffer swore mightily, but he dismissed the sergeant with an admonition to have his troops ready for inspection at four-thirty. He drank a brandy neat and sat on, staring at the darkness. Then suddenly he exclaimed and wheeled to the abandoned report.

“This is an undeniable overt act,”he muttered, seeing what he considered an opportunity to neutralise the suppositious complaint which Birnier had sent to Washington; and taking up his pen began a formal[pg 285]accusation against Birnier, as an American subject, for having violated the international laws of the Geneva Convention by aiding and abetting rebels of his Imperial Majesty.

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